The Gift of Daylight
by Reign
Summary: Trapped in Terminal City, Max and the transgenics fight the ultimate battle for their survival. The Conclave strikes, the plague is unleashed, and hope is quickly fading. Chapter 15 posted!
1. Good Mourning

**Disclaimer: **"Dark Angel " and all its characters belong to James Cameron and probably the stupid people at FOX who cancelled the show. 

**Author's Note: **I was struck with inspiration after watching "Freak Nation." I might continue this story if I get good feedback from readers. I have a lot of great ideas I want to incorporate. This is the revised version, because spellcheck is stupid and started correcting things that weren't wrong in the first place. Pairings will come later in the story, but I'll probably stick to the most logical pairings. Thanks in advance for any and all reviews.

**Dedication: **For Konstantine.

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 1: Good Mourning

_"Before the dawn, you are the destruction."_

Location: Terminal City. Inside Warehouse 2: "the recreational room."  
**Time: **4:23 PM PST

In Seattle, somewhere on the outskirts of town lay Terminal City; dirty, dusty, worn down, and closed off. It surely wasn't a tourist attraction, and in fact, it resembled a ghost town more than a city. People were forbidden to enter it, and as anyone walked or drove by, it rarely merited even a glance. At the moment, however, Terminal City was attracting the most attention than any other location in America. Past the police cars, FBI vans, and other miscellaneous vehicles, past the news crews, protestors, and the rusted metal fence, beside the lobby area, and after the first warehouse was ... warehouse 2; extremely dim-litted, full of chatter, and serving as a makeshift casino. 

"I'll take your bags of hydrogenated pork product and raise you ..." he paused briefly to reach for an orange box, "a box of processed cheese crackers." The said box was placed in the middle of the table, amongst the bags of other junk food for all the poker players to see. Each stared eagerly at the jackpot, tensing their muscles and glancing from their cards to each other's faces. 

"So, let's see 'em, boys," announced the ever cocky Alec aka X9-494 with a grin. 

"Damn, I fold," said one transgenic in the corner, throwing down his cards dejectedly and walking off. The others quit as well, but didn't leave in such an angry fashion. Joshua, who was still holding onto his cards, eventually folded after Alec told him it wasn't possible to have eight cards at once in Poker. Everyone else turned their attention to the two remaining players, Alec and Mole, and watched silently as the two of them prepared to reveal their cards. There was some whispering in the crowd, most of them inquiring what exactly this 'Poker' thing was. 

"Full ... house," announced Mole gruffly, spreading his cards out on the table with a triumphant look on his face. "Nice playing with you, pretty boy. At this rate, I'll never go hungry again," he announced, placing his hand on the food and pulling it towards himself. 

"Wait wait wait, not so fast," Alec interrupted. Alec's grin, which never seemed to falter, actually grew wider. He leaned his neck to the side to crack it, then placed his cards face up on the table. "Hate to break it to ya, Mole. But I've got ... a royal flush. I win." 

"A ... wait, what? A full house beats a royal flush," argued Mole, pulling the cigar out of his mouth to blow some smoke out. 

"No no no, you see, a royal flush is the best thing you can get in poker," countered Alec, placing his hand on the food and pulling it in his direction. 

"Says WHO?" demanded Mole, jumping to a stand. He slammed his fist on the table so that the chips and bags of junk food jumped up a bit. 

"SAYS MR. POKER," replied Alec, shooting to his feet also. He contemplated slamming his fist into the table, but at the last minute, settled for a meek slap instead. Hey, it was a nice table after all, and if they ever got out of this mess, he could pawn it for a few bucks. 

"Well then, if Mr. Poker has a problem with my house beating your flush, he can come SAY IT TO MY FACE," Mole retorted. 

Before long, the two of them were engaged in a shouting match which caught the attention of many more transgenics. The crowd which had densely collected around the poker table doubled in size, most anxiously anticipating a brawl coming on. Hardly anyone knew the rules of Poker, but that didn't really matter. Ever since Terminal City's lockdown by the Seattle P.D., any event that didn't resemble sleeping was considered very interesting. 

Outside Warehouse 2 were approximately fourteen more beaten down warehouses, bringing the total to fifteen. During this needy time, each building served its own purpose. Most were used for lodging, but number eight served as the armory and number seven was made into a temporary HQ. Right below Terminal City, in the sewers, were a complicated maze of tunnels. One direction led to the ocean, while the other led outside the City. After raising what was now considered the official Transgenic/Manticore flag (courtesy of Joshua) on the top of one of the abandoned buildings, and fortifying the exits by assigning transgenics to sentinel duty, Max was fairly positive nobody would be getting in anytime soon. The problem now was how to get out. 

"Hey Max, have you seen the TV remote?" Sketchy shouted from the couch. He was surfing the channels to check for any new news. Or at least, he was trying to. 

"Shut up, foo. Can't you see she's busy?" Original Cindy snapped at him, before quickly slapping the remote to his chest. "Here." 

"Ooof," he twitched a bit, then grinned. "Thanks O.C. Do you think I'll sprout a few extra fingers or another head in this radiation?" he asked anxiously, as if growing extra appendages was the most exciting thing in the world. 

"No. But hopefully you'll a grow a brain to replace the pebble in your head now," she muttered, rolling her eyes. O.C.'s attention shifted upwards to glance at Max, who was pacing back and forth in front of the makeshift desk. Beside her, Logan was clicking away on the only computer he had access too. O.C. frowned a bit, and shook her head. Max had barely slept a wink since the lockdown, spending most if not all her time exchanging phone calls with Detective Ramone Clemente outside and giving out orders to the transgenics. So far, neither of them could come to a compromise— and at this rate, it didn't look like they would anytime soon. Max didn't blame Clemente though, he was one of the decent officers in Seattle that she trusted somewhat. He wasn't exactly a Matt Sung, but he was at least honest and honorable. She demanded to negotiate with Clemente only, but she blamed this deadlock on his superiors, who were negotiating through him. 

"Don't worry. If they're smart, they'll take the offer," Logan assured her from the side. His smooth voice cut through her complicated train of thought, but for Max, it was a welcomed interruption. He reached out to touch her gloved hands, his own hands shielded in white latex. "We've got babies and children in here," he reminded. 

Reflexively, she jerked her hand back. Then, after a quick glance into his eyes, she let her hand be held. "Genetically empowered babies and children," she replied sourly, clearly agitated by the situation. Max was still dressed in her black leather pants and zipped up black leather jacket. There wasn't enough time to beautify herself, especially when food was quickly running out, and she had four hundred plus lives in her hands. 

"But they're children nonetheless," he countered softly, nudging his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his other hand. 

Together silently, the two of them fell back into their own individual train of thoughts. Then, after a few minutes passed, Max this time broke the silence. "What is that I see you tinkering with all the time, anyway?" 

"What?" he snapped to attention then blinked. "Oh, this? They're color contacts. I figured since we're in the 21st century, I might as well get with the program," he replied with a weak smile. "They make my eyes green though, but I don't mind as much." 

"I like your eyes the way they are," she said absently. 

"Yeah, but I don't like my glasses the way they are," he replied. "I'm trying to incorporate a zoom-in feature to the contacts, but so far, no luck." 

"Keep trying." 

The sound of her cell phone ringing cut into their tense conversation. Everyone inside the warehouse, including O.C., Sketchy, and Dix jumped a bit, then fell eerily silent. Everyone peered upwards at Max, who slowly reached for the phone, exhaled, and answered. "Clemente?" 

"That's right, Max," Clemente's deep voice replied, fatigue evident in his tone.  
"As a gesture of goodwill, we've got three-fourths of what you requested. If you want the other fourth, I've been ordered to do an exchange. Twenty firearms for them," he said tiredly. 

She let out a breath of relief she hadn't realized she had been holding. Max paused briefly to give it some thought, then agreed. "Got it. But I want the exchange to be done inside the gate, no snipers at all, and no weapons within forty feet." Pause. "Got the drivers for the truck?" 

"All volunteers too," he replied in an awkward, sort of amazed tone. "Trucks are coming in ten, better get ready." 

"What happened to White and his group, by the way? Still where we left them?" it was two days since the event at Jam Pony. 

"White's out, his agency pulled some strings and got him out, which is more than I can say for the group that was with him. They've been booked for impersonating officers, but I'm not sure how long they'll be in jail with friends like White.." 

"... Right," said in acknowledgement. "Oh and Clemente— thanks," she said sincerely. 

"Just doing my job," he replied. "I'll be in touch," then hung up. 

Max slipped the phone back into her pocket, all the while wearing a smug grin. "Food's on the way," she announced to the relieved bunch. "Hey Dix," she called out. 

"Yeah, Max?" the pale skinned transgenic, who looked partly human and partly reptilian snapped to attention. 

"Tell Alec to gather a few X's and twenty old guns— empty the bullets, we're not giving them any ammo. Tell him to meet me in the lobby area in 1630" 

"Gotcha. Any idea where he is?" Dix asked. 

"Probably in warehouse two, arguing with Mole over who's the bigger idiot," she retorted with a roll of her eyes. 

At those words, Logan, O.C., and Max strangely replied together with the same response: "Definitely Alec." 

**

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Location: 

**Seattle docks.**  
Time: **12:45 AM PST 

** **It had been a week since Ames White was left duct taped to a column on the second floor of Jam Pony with nothing more than his drawers on. He had gotten over the physical injuries, but the humiliation was still lingering fresh in his mind, and he doubted it would ever leave. Alone in the driver's seat of the black Lincoln town car, he peered out the black tinted windows to gaze at the ocean and dock. Somewhere in that area, 452 was cornered. He would have her soon. His train of thought was interrupted as another sleek black vehicle with tinted windows pulled up to the side. White quickly got out of his car and adjusted his tie. He was wearing dark shades, but they were to hide the bruise under his right eye and the cut above his left. 


	2. Almost There, Going Nowhere

Disclaimer: "Dark Angel" and all its characters belong to James Cameron and the dumb people at FOX who cancelled the show. 

**Author's Note: **As I continue to write, I'm thinking this fic will eventually turn M/L. I wanted to write a story that was a solid continuation to the series finale, and I tried to put myself in the mind of Dark Angel's writers. If this was an AU fic, I could probably turn it M/A. But since this isn't an AU fic, I'm following the theory that FOX and DA's writers made Max and Logan ultimately meant for each other. Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of M/A (I've written a few M/A fics too), but this just isn't one of them. Sorry.

Just a quick note. From now on, warehouse numbers will be referred to in roman numerals. So when someone says something like "It's in IV," the person's referring to something in warehouse 4 and not that tube they stick in your arm.

Thanks in advance for the reviews, they're always appreciated!

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 2 : Almost There, Going Nowhere

_"Just wait one minute more, because my heart is halfway torn.__  
__And you're already gone." -- The Starting Line___

**Location: **Clanskanie, Oregon

**Time: **7:30 AM PST

Clanskanie was the type of town that was small enough to be peaceful, and large enough so that a newcomer didn't stick out like a sore thumb. The population numbered at about 1500, and the houses were spread far enough apart so that if one didn't want to be seen, one didn't need to be. In other words, it was an ideal place for an amnesiac genetically engineered killing machine in hiding.

Adam Thompson arrived in Clanskanie four—no, five— months, twelve days, and eleven hours to the point from Seattle Hospital after his car accident. Adam tended to be very precise like that, it was a unique trait that everyone who had encountered him, noticed. Over the spread of those five months, Adam had become a well-known hometown hero for performing a string of amazing feats. First, there was the group of five robbers that he dispatched, single-handedly. Then, the drowning kids he found, rescued, and resuscitated without any help. He was the type of guy who would run into a burning building and save someone's cat, as well as someone who would stop to help an old lady across the street. Adam Thompson was seemingly Clanskanie's very own Clark Kent.

It came to no surprise that when Ames White came looking for him, it was as if there was a huge billboard with an arrow pointing to the ranch where Adam lived. The Conclave had assigned White a red, rusted pick-up truck for this mission as opposed to his usual black town car, for obvious reasons. And instead of a black suit, White begrudgingly found himself in a pair of jeans and an ugly blue plaid shirt.

"_Don't_," he warned his assigned partner, Reeve, with a scowl. The other looked like he was about to burst out laughing at the sight of the outfit.

Reeve was sitting in the passenger seat of the truck, shrugging innocently. "Wasn't going to say anything, boss," he quipped up with a grin. The Conclave sent Reeve along for the ride, probably because White had screwed up enough times to permanently drill doubt into their heads. Reeve was wearing practically the same attire, except with his light beard, he somehow looked _much_ better in the clothes than White— a fact that he was just about to point out, but at the last minute, decided against.

"It's that one," Reeve said, tapping his map before pointing to a modest white house tucked behind a few trees. It looked as normal as normal got, with a white picket fence, a dog running around in the yard, and cultivated farmland that stretched a few miles left and right. The truck kicked up dust as it rumbled down the dirt path leading up to the front of the house.

After a minute's pause, Reeve snapped a magazine into his handgun with a sharp click and holstered it. "Just in case," Reeve spoke up when White raised a brow. Reeve yawned and cracked his knuckles.

"Let me remind you once again, that we are to neutralize the 599 with words only. Possibly a tranquilizer _if_ it comes to that— but we do _not_ have clearance to blow his brains out," White warned. The said tranquilizer gun was pocketed. "Grab the folder in there," he said to Reeve, motioning to the glove compartment.

Reeve complied, and glanced at White, "What are they planning to do with him, anyway? Or rather, what are you planning to do with him?"

"That's none of your concern," he stated crankily.

"All right, all right, be that way. So why'd they send you here? Probation? I'm on it too, you know," Reeve said cheerily, as if being placed on probation was the greatest thing to happen to him.

That seemed to catch White off guard. "For what?" Pause. "And I'm not on probation," he protested defiantly.

Reeve ignored White's last sentence. "Got a little trigger happy during a training session. Accidentally put someone's eye out," he said with a weak grin. "But they can't deny I'm a damn good shot— pow," he made an imaginary gun with his thumb and point finger and pretended to shoot at the dog.

"… Great," said White dully. "And what exactly _is_ your purpose on this mission except being annoying?"

Reeve looked hurt at that question, and if White had a heart, he might've felt a little bit sorry. Too bad. "Well, I'm here to provide the extra muscle just in case things go sideways. Like, you know, _your last mission_," Reeve just had to sneak in his own little snide remark. _I'm useful, I'll show you._

They didn't talk the rest of the way. Once he reached the house, the truck was parked, White killed the engine, and got out of the vehicle. A much larger and malicious looking gun was pulled from under his seat and loaded slowly with bullets the size of his thumb. It was Reeve's turn to raise a brow.

"And what the hell exactly do you need something like _that_ for?" Reeve asked.

The two of them walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. White glanced at Reeve.

"Just in case," he said.

------------------------------------

**Location: **Terminal City. Beside Warehouse 5, the makeshift storage room.

**Time: **8:45 AM PST

"Is she still not talking to me?" Alec asked dully.

"Actually, Wonder boy, she had a few words for you," replied Normal from across him.

"Four letter ones, I'm guessing," said Alec.

"Correction— _lots_ of four letter ones," Normal said cheerily. Ever since he volunteered to drive one of the food trucks into Terminal City and hang around a bit, Normal was strangely chipper. Many wondered why, considering he was in the middle of a toxic dump, amongst a group of genetically altered humans, and temporarily locked behind a military barricade. With Normal, things were always abnormal. "Then again, she's always had a bad attitude, that one," he said knowingly. "Aw, and aren't you the cute one?" No, Normal had _not_ just called Alec cute. He was enthusiastically bouncing Gem's baby on his lap, the baby he had delivered at Jam Pony, the same baby, by the way, he was made godfather of. Normal wore his new title with great pride as he held _Hope_, as she was eventually named. A great choice, many complimented, since everyone needed it these days.

"Just because she doesn't like chocolate, doesn't mean she should be breathing down my neck," Alec protested with a shrug, dipping his finger into the cake and scooping some into his mouth.

"Of the one hundred and sixty crates of food, _fifty _of them were chocolate cake. How _else_ did you expect Max to react, Alec?" interjected Logan as he approached the three of them.

"Well, I guess I deserved the verbal slurs. But, the flying chair was uncalled for," he said, looking mock hurt. "Besides, you don't see the little kids complaining."

"That's beside the point," Logan replied, putting an end to a pointless debate.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" asked Alec.

"Max wants to know how you're holding up, Normal," Logan replied, glancing at the aforementioned.

"Does she now?" he looked up from Hope and shrugged. "Well, I'm feeling great. This place smells a little funny though. But I haven't transformed into a mutant green creature yet so I'll be fine."

"All the better," replied Logan with a shrug. He turned to say something to Alec before Normal continued on.

"—Which is more than I can say for Max and her two partners in crime," he meant Sketchy and O.C. "A week's leave without notice? _Incredible_. Tell them they've lost their jobs," he said dismissively, in usual, cranky, Normal fashion. Then went back to playing with Hope.

"Honestly, I think that's the least of Max's worries right now," said Logan, before turning his attention to Alec. "There's a meeting in VII in about fifteen minutes. Clemente says that military's getting impatient and the government's pressuring them to move in soon."

"They wouldn't. That would be a slaughter," Alec replied nonchalantly. He then added, "because they have no chance against us with that small task force."

"You wanna bet there are tanks and helicopters on the way?" Logan asked gravely.

"Not unless I wanted to lose," Alec replied thoughtfully. "So what's your next move, exactly?"

"_Our_ next move," Logan corrected, "won't be made yet. Believe or not, we made a huge move by not moving at all. Standing our ground speaks volumes about transgenics. It's their turn now, they have a chance to make peace."

"But that's not to say that a bunch of people won't still die horrible and painful deaths," Alec added in sarcastically.

Normal twitched.

"Always the optimist," Logan said with a sigh.

"I prefer 'realist," Alec corrected. "Thanks for the meeting notice. Normal, we'll see you in a few." He got to his feet and dusted his jeans.

Normal nodded dismissively and went back to playing with Hope. He seemed more interested in her than the news that he might die potentially a potentially bloody death.

Alec finished the last of his cake and licked his fingers clean. He started for VII slowly, waiting for Logan to hurry up. After a few seconds, he turned around to see him disappearing into warehouse 5. "'Ey, where you going?" he shouted, to which he got no response. Alec mumbled something probably vulgar, and started back to the warehouse. By then, Logan had already exited with a big bag of something.

"What's that?" Alec asked curiously.

"What else? Chocolate cake. Let's go, Max is waiting."

------------------------------------

**Location: **Clanskanie, Oregon

**Time: **12:11 PM PST

It was four hours since Adam Thompson had been invited out of his home to talk at a diner with two men he swore he had never seen in his life before, two hours since they had finished explaining to him his intricate and amazing history, thirty minutes since he stopped asking questions, and a few seconds since he stopped talking altogether. It all seemed like a bad dream, one that he couldn't wake up from. Or maybe, one that he didn't want to wake up from. It didn't feel real— but in a strange way and unexplainable way— it felt right. Maybe it was the time he discovered he could hold his breath for four minutes, or the time he caught up to Buddy's truck when it was running at full speed. Either way, he came to the painful realization that he wasn't normal. Nor would he ever be.

Some of the history, as it was explained to him, felt like someone shedding a bright light on dim areas of his memory. But some parts that were explained seemed like new pieces added altogether. Regardless, the man in blue and the man with the beard had told him the truth. Something Buddy had failed to do all this time. Zack was rather bitter about that fact, he felt betrayed to a certain extent but got over the feeling fairly quickly. White had told him that the Conclave had send him to live with Buddy for his own protection. Something Zack expressed his gratitude over and over about during the course of their conversation.

As far as Zack was concerned, after escaping Manticore and striving to protect his siblings, he was deceived by X5-452 and tricked into believing she loved him. 452's deceptive ways led him to a failed infiltration of Manticore (failed in some ways, successful in others) where he was shot in the head, had his heart removed, and his organs harvested. 452's wrongdoings also led to his eventual memory lapse and brush with death when she struck a puddle of water he was standing in with a detached (and very much alive) power cable. All of this done to protect the real love of her life, Eyes Only. That name had struck a chord in the weary young man, and it summoned a restrained anger inside of him that he never knew was there in the first place. 452's motives were to steal the Manticore files and disks, destroy all previous experiments via cauterization, and sell the remaining information for millions of dollars to sellers in South Africa. The Conclave was an underground organization of mistreated transgenics who strived to fight against 452's private army of miscreants. Her band of transgenic rebels, known infamously now as "Freak Nation," was eventually cornered in Terminal City, Washington where they still were living to this day. Zack didn't need White to tell him this, it was on newspapers and TV stations everywhere. All in all, Zack took the huge chunk of information he was given much better than anyone could ever hope to imagine. Strangely enough, as confusing as things were right now, everything was beginning to make more sense than ever before.

"And your names are _what_ again?" he asked a silent White, for perhaps, the fifth time. He was relieved that the loud jukebox in the corner of the diner was drowning out most of their conversation so that hardly any of it was hearable. But even so, Zack couldn't help but look over his shoulder from time to time. He noticed the suspicious group of five members at the opposite end of the restaurant stealing glances at him and his party. Maybe his mind was just making things up, but he swore that one of the faces looked very familiar.

"Ames White," White replied smoothly and patiently, catching Zack's wandering attention. White contemplated lying about his own name, but what was the use when Zack didn't know who he was to begin with? Besides, if White lied and by chance, Zack found out, trust would be lost and the plan would go horribly wrong horribly quickly.

"You?" Zack glanced at Reeve, who was busying himself with his cheeseburger and coke.

"Jack," he replied with a grin.

"Jack what?" asked Zack, completely oblivious to the upcoming bad joke.

"Jack M. Off-- _ow_," Reeve cringed as something hard slammed into his toe. "Okay okay, fine. It's Reeve Tanner. I was just kidding, doesn't anyone here have a sense of humor in this place? The cows are funnier than the people," he muttered, falling silent again as he continued eating.

Zack grinned into his orange juice, he found this Reeve man very likable.

White stored his scathing look for another time and took a sip of his root beer. "The Conclave's worried sick about this situation, and has requested your assistance in the matter."

Zack's grin disappeared from his face. "I've thought about what you've told me, and I'm grateful that you even bothered," he paused tensely, "but ... I don't want to be apart of this little war." He avoided both of the mens' eyes, it wasn't like Zack to disappoint anyone. "I figure that it's not any of my business, and whatever wrong 452 has done to me," he paused once more, this time the look on his face was undeniably furious. He clenched his teeth and gripped the cup of orange juice so tightly, that it cracked, "I ..." _forgive her? No, some scars never go away, _"don't want to open old wounds," he finished finally, heaving a sigh. Zack took the napkin that Reeve offered to wipe his fingers clean of the liquid.

"Think about the people she's murdered, the ones who were left to burn alive in Manticore's cells, your siblings ... _you_," White protested earnestly. He didn't want to come off as pushy, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

"So ... you guys find a way to get to her, I'm happy where I am," that was an outright lie, really. Rural life was too boring for Zack, and now that he knew his capabilities and history, it seemed duller than ever.

"And what about your brother Ben?" he opened the Manila folder again and tapped the gruesome picture. "Snapped his neck."

Zack fell silent.

"If Freak Nation succeeds, no one and nothing will be safe. _This_ will no longer be safe," he waved his hand around the diner and outside towards the trees, the grass, the houses, the people, etc. "It hasn't been confirmed, but we have reason to believe that 452's developing biochemical weapons specifically targeted to normal human beings. We need you Zack, to lead the task force we've prepared to permanently neutralize 452. We need your leadership skills, tactical knowledge, and so on."

"Now the virus thing I don't believe," Zack said. "And what tactical knowledge are you talking about?"

"You don't? Do you even know the people she's working with?" White questioned, ignoring the second question.

"No, but I have a feeling I'm not going to care," he retorted.

"I beg to differ," replied White. "_Him_," he pulled out a colored snapshot of Eyes Only. It was, literally a picture of eyes— only. But eyes that Zack instantly recognized. "Do you know who this is?" White asked slowly as he dangled the picture in front of the X5.

While sipping on his drink, Reeve observed silently the startling reaction that came from Zack.

The photograph triggered something in Zack which made him sit eerily still. His jaw tightened and his muscles tensed considerably, his eyes were set solidly on the picture. "Eyes Only," he replied coarsely, reaching out to snatch the picture out of White's hand. "But ... but I don't get it, why would she set loose a virus targeted to humans only?"

Ooh, and Reeve knew the answer to this lie because it had everything to do with the Conclave's true intentions. He interrupted White, "Why else do you think?_ Genetic purification._"

White nodded in agreement.

"Look, I'm not going," Zack repeated firmly. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to see this 452 girl again, I don't want to save the world, and I don't want any of this to happen. I didn't ask for this to happen."

"We know this must be difficult to swallow," Reeve piped up sympathetically. Or maybe he was acting. Either way, his words and attitude appealed more to Zack than White's. "And it's probably unfair to unload all this crap on your feet when you thought you left it all behind. But what does your mind tell you?"

"I see pictures and faces ... sometimes fragments of conversations." Zack said wearily.

"Do they coincide with what we've told you so far?" Reeve asked.

"Well..." minus a few things that Zack had no memory of, for the most part, it seemed to be all true. "Yeah, they do, Reeve."

"Then come with us to Seattle. You don't need to do anything you don't want to. We'll give you more answers to questions we know you have. I think showing is better than telling."

White, who was currently impressed with Reeve's attitude, finally realized why the Conclave had assigned him on this mission. White was tactical, and Reeve was social. It all made sense now.

Zack fell silent again, rubbing the back of his neck and breathing slowly. There were a million things running through his mind, things that would surely be sorted out by the time they arrived to Seattle, right? Well ... maybe, maybe not. "I'm in," he finally said.

Reeve simply nodded enthusiastically, he really liked this Zack guy and got along with him just fine. "Awesome," he commented, to which Zack smiled weakly in response.

"When do we leave?" asked Zack finally.

White drank some of his root beer to mask his smirk. After finishing the last of his drink, he pulled out his wallet. "Right away, time's short." White got to his feet and dropped a few dollar bills on the table.

"What do I tell Buddy and Mary?" Zack asked.

"We left them a note when we left for the diner," White replied, "they know you'll be back."

"I don't think 'be right back --Adam' covers 'Hey, I'm off to save the world from a deadly plague set loose by a rogue group of mutants.'" Zack pointed out.

"Aha, does this mean the Conclave finally has a tactical leader for its task force?" Reeve questioned hopefully.

Zack shrugged with a smirk.

"The less they know, the better," White said gravely.

Zack gave this some thought and finally nodded. "All right. But tell me we're not driving to Seattle in that piece of junk," Zack motioned to the rusty truck.

"What's wrong with the truck?" White asked, sounding offended.

"It barely got us to this diner," Reeve spoke up in agreement to Zack, wiping his mouth with a napkin soon after.

"We're taking the truck," White said with a note of finality in his tone. "And you're driving, so go warm up the engine," he tossed the keys at Zack, who easily caught and looked at them. White stared at Zack, wondering what was so fascinating with a few car keys. "You _do_ remember how to start a car, right?"

"Yeah, and I can drive it in heavy snow at 90 miles per hour while dodging enemy fire," Zack repeated automatically, as if someone else had said the words. _Strange. _He blinked, then exited the diner.

"Good enough for me," Reeve shrugged and followed after Zack.

"Hold up," White stopped him before he reached the door. He glanced behind his shoulders quickly to make sure no one was listening in. He didn't like the look of that shady group of five in the diner's far left corner.

Reeve paused in step and turned around. "What?"

"The Conclave has found a new use for you on this assignment, Tanner."

Reeve seemed to perk up at the sound of this. "Is that so? Go on, what is it?

"You're to be 599's watcher from now on. Mentor him in our ways, feed up propaganda when needed, but above all— keep him alive throughout this mission."

For the first time since the two met up, Reeve lost his goofy shell and straightened up. He seemed to take the order very seriously. "I won't let the Conclave down," besides, Reeve was really found of Zack and the both of them shared the same kind of humor. This wouldn't seem like work at all. "Is that it?"

"His memory might come back quicker if he sleeps. We'll let him drive for a few miles, then alternate. Answer all the questions he asks about his past honestly, information involving 452, Freak Nation, Eyes Only, and The Conclave will be filtered with our propaganda as usual. Seattle's, what, 11 hours away? By the time we're there, I'm positive he'll be completely turned. And yeah, that's it. Dismissed."

Reeve nodded and exited the diner with a much more cheerful attitude than the one he entered with.

White nodded to the waitress and spared one last quick glance around the diner before exiting. He noticed that the suspicious group in the corner had disappeared. _Well good_. Anyway, he got into the truck with Zack and Reeve (who was singing along to really bad country songs on the radio) and together, they sped off towards Seattle. Despite his previous irritation with everything, White couldn't help but grin right now. 452's days were numbered.

------------------------------------

**Location: **Clanskanie, Oregon

**Time: **1:30 PM PST

The black SUV hummed softly in the diner's parking lot. The red, rusty pick-up had left no more than fifteen minutes ago and was already out of sight. "All right, that's enough of a head start for them. Drive," a strained voice commanded from the back.

The blonde woman in the driver's seat begrudgingly replied by shifting gears and driving in pursuit of the truck. The other three sat silently in their seats, obviously disturbed at what they had just witnessed inside the diner.

The man in the back pulled out his cell phone and speed dialed a certain number. "Pick it up, come on, pick it up ... oh damn," he grumbled as he got the voice message instead of the actual person he eagerly wanted to talk to. "Long time no talk. All right, I'll make this short until we get a chance to talk. I'm alive. Anyway, I'm sure she doesn't need more chaos at the moment, so don't tell her about this. Tell a few people around her that White's on his way back to Seattle ... with Zack. _Long_ story, I'll explain later.

"And if you're still wondering. Yeah, this really is Lydecker."

He hung up.

------------------------------------

**A/N:** I'm introducing a lot of my old favorite characters back into the story via this fic. It should make things busy and exciting, I'm buzzing with a lot of ideas right now. It'll all clear up and come together at the end, I promise. Review please.


	3. Fate is a Tangle

**Disclaimer: **I think I've disclaimed enough.

**Author's Note: **I made the Governor of California a transgenic, heh heh. You'll see what I mean later in this chapter. I also ripped a line from the Matrix. I mean, how can you _not_ see the resemblance between White and Agent Smith?

This chapter is longer than my usual chapters, but I really enjoyed writing it for some reason.

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 3: Fate is a Tangle

_"Fate is a tangle. We can only follow a thread."_

**Location: **Undisclosed location, somewhere outside of Seattle.   
**Time: **3:15 PM PST 

"Why are we stopping? We can't be here yet."

"We're not, Zack," Reeve replied, as he pulled the truck smoothly into the parking lot of what looked like an abandoned psychiatric ward. "This is one of the Conclave's headquarters," he motioned to the building.

Zack glanced wearily at it.

"All right, so it's not exactly the Four Seasons. We have 452 to thank for that, she drove us and our children from our former location, the Brookridge Academy," Reeve said bitterly. "It was a nice place too, had air conditioning for one … but, um, that's not the point. The point is, in 5 minutes, you have a meeting with the Priestess."

"The Priestess? What does she want?" Zack asked slowly.

"Sex."

White was chattering away on his cell phone to some familiar, but had heard that. He slapped Reeve on the back of the head.

"Okay okay," Reeve straightened up, "_To talk_, what else would we bring you here for? Look around the place a little bit, meet the people, and let her explain the entire situation in better detail. But don't take too long because we're on a time crunch, got it?"

"Um … are you sure about this?" Zack started to open the door and exit.

"Positive." Reeve waved to the guard standing at the door. "There you go, just tell him you're here to see the Priestess, and he'll take you up to her office. See you in, say, an hour? Whitey and I are getting another car for our trip to Seattle."

"Right …" Zack replied, "in an hour, yeah." He got out of the car and went up the steps to talk to the guard. Before long, the both of them had disappeared from sight.

Reeve shifted the truck into gear and drove towards the large parking lot in the rear. "I bet you by the time he comes out, he'll be on our side without a doubt. No one's more convincing than the Priestess," Reeve declared as he killed the engine and got out of the truck. "Hey, hey, are you listening to me?" he walked around the back and snapped his fingers in White's face. "Let's go, the towncar's over there."

White swatted Reeve's hand away and continued speaking animatedly to the person on the other side. "Yeah, mhm, right, yeah. Okay, I got it._ Excellent _work, my friend. The Conclave is very grateful of your service. What? Oh, don't worry about it, the rest of your team is on its way. In fact, we found you a squad leader … yeah, okay. Until then. Fe'nos tol." White flipped the cell phone shut and got out of the truck.

"Who was that …?" Reeve peered curiously at White as the two of them walked past a long line of cars.

"Judas," White replied vaguely.

"Right. You know, you need to work on answering questions more directly," he replied. "Is it this one?" Reeve slapped the hood of a black Lincoln town car.

"Yeah, it is. Here, warm it up," he tossed the keys towards Reeve and walked around to the trunk of the car.

"This, looks like a bad guy's car," Reeve snatched the keys out of the air and clicked the button to unlock the door. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Changing. I'm not riding into Seattle looking like this," he removed a black duffle bag from the back and unzipped it.

"I happen to like them, they're comfortable," Reeve replied, getting into the driver's seat and starting the engine.

"Fine, you wear whatever you want."

Reeve clicked on the stereo and tested out some of the switches in the car. Eventually, White entered the passenger seat dressed in his usual black suit and gray trench coat. "And you, look like a bad guy," Reeve commented.

"Oh, I'm not so bad once you get to know me," White said with a smirk, removing a pair of dark sunglasses out of his coat pocket and slipping them on. He switched on the AC and leaned back against his seat.

"What squad is Zack going to lead, anyway?" Reeve finally asked. It was a question that had plagued him since the beginning of the mission.

"The Elements," White replied automatically.

"The Elements, really? Wow!" Reeve's eyes widened. "I've heard a lot about them, 'the cream of the crop', 'tip of the spear'—"

"Tip of the _sword_," White corrected him.

"Right, 'tip of the spear' belongs to the Phalanx," he quipped, "which you landed in jail…"

"For the last time, that _wasn't_ my faul—"

"Man, I wish I was born into that breeding line," Reeve continued dreamily. "First rate, top notch—"

"—And an utter failure without a tactical leader," White finished firmly for him. "They can fight, we know that, but I wouldn't trust any one of them on a mission alone. They think like children, act on impulse."

"But they _can_ fight," Reeve finished for him. "You think we'll get to see them in action?"

"Who knows? But they're coming with us. They're already in Seattle, we're to contact them when we arrive in the city, and rendezvous at the Harbor. Pier 6, I think. Then we have 48 hours to draw up a plan and redeploy. We're on a tight schedule." White jabbed a button to roll the window down, he peered outside and looked around. "What's taking him so long?"

"Hey, it's only been 30 minutes, give him time." Reeve pulled the car out of the parking spot and drove to the front of the building where Zack had entered, and would undoubtedly exit from. "What I don't understand is, why the hell we're going to all this trouble to kill 452, when it looks like the U.S. government will do it for us."

"Why do you _think_? McKinley and a few others have informed the Conclave that … Congress is drawing up a Bill to allow limited rights to the transgenics. They're not planning to kill anyone at all."

"No way," Reeve replied incredulously. "They hate transgenics."

"Not enough to approve a wholesale slaughter. What's more, you know that Governor from California? Turns out he's one of them too. A few other important figures are speaking out against these hate crimes too. We've caught wind that activists are now protesting against segregation," White explained heatedly. "The crime lords are seeing this as an opportunity to recruit superhuman muscle into their organizations. And you know how much influence they have on the government."

"I … I didn't know it was that serious," Reeve replied dejectedly. "It's not that bad though, Ames. I mean, we can just try live together in peace now. No need for the Coming, mass death and genocide, and all that, right?"

White moved so quickly that by the time Reeve blinked, he found himself jerked forward and staring into two very angry eyes. "Don't talk that way around me," White warned. "Our highest priority is 452's death, it's the will of the Conclave," he said venomously. "Is that understood?"

Reeve opened his mouth to say something, but paused halfway and nodded instead.

"Good," White released his collar and let him settle back in his seat. "That barricade's on its way out. We need to strike now, while we have 452 cornered," White clarified.

Reeve had fallen silent for the rest of the wait, that is, until Zack exited the building. The X5 had apparently changed too, into baggy black military pants, a black shirt, and a leather jacket. The clothes weren't what Reeve noticed most, it was the determined look in Zack's eyes.

"So how'd it go?" Reeve asked, as Zack settled in the back seat and the car pulled out into the main road.

"Let's get 452," he replied coarsely.

------------------------------------ 

**Location: **Terminal City, Washington. Warehouse 7   
**Time: **3:15 PM PST

"Food rationing will carry on as usual. Food distribution now begins at 0600, every other day, at the front and back entrances of V. Bring your own boxes, we don't exactly have a stock load of them. All salvageable materials are to be recycled by being returned to III. Since X5's and above can go a reasonable amount of days without food, adult X's above the age of 18 will have their portions cut by 15%—" the young man paused, as if waiting for something.

A lot of people groaned.

He then continued coolly, "—for conservation purposes, effective immediately." He shifted through his papers. "Next," he announced sturdily. "Due to the aforementioned cuts in food portions for X5's and above, Nomalies will be assigned doubled hours of sentinel duty—" he paused once again, waiting patiently.

This time, the _other_ half of the crowd groaned noisily.

And once again, the young man continued indifferently, "—in response to the heightened threat level to Terminal City. There will be six sentinels to every entrance, and we're upping the number to twelve at the main entrance." Pause. "Next. Warehouse two has been vacated for the sole purpose of use as a gym. Should anyone need to use it for practicing purposes, we've built a makeshift training facility in there. But people— just a reminder, _please_ don't break anything. And don't seriously wound one another, that's going to create a huge pain in the ass for the medics."

He paused one final time to turn and look behind his shoulder. "And finally, a few words from our esteemed leader," the boy straightened his papers on the counter and stepped aside to let Max through.

"It's all yours, chief," he declared with a grin.

"Esteemed leader?" Max questioned with a quirk of her brow.

"Well, I wanted to try something new," he commented with a shrug.

"Good job, Zeke," she smiled and advanced forward, but not before ruffling his hair.

"No problem, Max," the weary transgenic boy replied. He was obviously taller than Max, his height bordered on 6'2." Zeke was also much younger, give or take five years, with a smooth baby face and dark hazel eyes. His short black hair, which was worn very untamed, became more messed up when she ruffled it. But he didn't seem to mind. "If only VII was bigger, we wouldn't need to have the same meeting _eight_ separate times in a row so that everyone can hear everything. You know I hate repeating myself," he said.

"Yeah, I hear ya. But we're just about done, I'll take it from here," she stated.

Zeke moved to the back and out of the way. He joined a standing Logan, OC, a very bored looking Alec, and a sleeping Sketchy.

Max stepped forward effortlessly and peered down at the wave of faces, which were anxiously waiting for her to speak. Each of those faces were unique, some were human looking, and some weren't. Some were blue, and some were green. Regardless of their appearances, one truth was lucid—they were all in this together and whether they liked it or not, they were stuck as one huge, dysfunctional, genetically engineered family.

This would be the eighth and final time today her little speech would be recited, but it was necessary everytime.

"Listen up people," she announced loudly, to silent down the side conversations. Her voice projected perfectly inside the heavily crowded warehouse. "I know things are rough right now," there was a murmur of agreement in the crowd. "Hell, I haven't slept since … well, who knows when. But I want to say that I appreciate everyone's patience. If we're going to get through this, we need to stick together. We need everybody's cooperation and help. I'm still working on the negotiations, but as you're most likely aware, things are really complicated at the moment. It just takes some time." She paused, wasn't there something else she had to say? Oh yeah. "I have no doubt in my mind that we'll get through this. Stay strong everyone," she concluded with assurance.

The transgenic crowd seemed to brighten up as a whole to these words. Fatigued, but now with a replenished sense of hope, they leisurely made their way out of the warehouse and dispersed. Before long, a previously crammed warehouse 7 gradually drained of people, and only a handful remained.

"Are we done yet?" a drowsy voice asked from the back. Sketchy glanced around the place with sleep still heavy in his eyes. "Good job, Max. Yeah, way to go," he clapped and yawned loudly, opting to settle back in his warm chair.

Original Cindy raised a brow at him. "Not like you were awake to hear anything," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Come on, let's go check up on Normal. I wouldn't trust him with a little baby girl," she yanked Sketchy up by the collar.

Max broke off her conversation with Alec to nod at OC and Sketchy. "I need to talk to you two later, and Normal too. Don't wander too far away."

"Mos def. We'll catch you later, Boo," OC replied.

Sketchy waved. "Later, Max. Ow, hey hey hey, watch it. I bruise easily," he muttered to an unconcerned looking OC as they both exited.

Max then looked back at Alec, who had plastered a grin on his face, as usual.

"As I was saying— touching speech, Max," he continued. "It sort of lost its effect after the umpteenth time though."

"Shut up," she replied with a scoff, looking over Alec's shoulder to see an approaching Logan.

"This isn't still about the cake, is it? Is chocolate really that bad?" Alec asked sardonically.

"No, it's not about the cake. But thanks for reminding me of another reason to be annoyed at you." She paused. "And I'm more of a vanilla girl anyway," she replied easily.

"I'll keep that in mind. Need to get back to II, there's an arm wrestling wager the guys and I are starting up. I don't want to miss it. Loser does extra sentinel duty. Well, I'll be around," he gave her a mock salute and nodded to Logan. "Later." Alec headed out.

"There goes our favorite rogue X5," Logan spoke up from behind her.

"Oh yeah, _charming_. One day I'd like to punch that grin off his face," she retorted sourly. She turned around to face him after adjusting her leather gloves. If it was possible, he looked more disheveled than her— and that clearly troubled her. "Looking a little tired there. Why don't you go take a few hours off? This mess will still be here when you wake up, right?" she offered.

"Well, I snuck in a few hours in between the meetings," he stated with a grin. "I'll be fine."

She matched his grin with one of hers. "How's it looking out there?"

Logan impulsively reached up to adjust his glasses, but realized at the very last minute that he was wearing his new contacts. He forked a hand through his hair instead. "Well, Clemente's kept his word so far, we know that. The military hasn't advanced at all, but they're being strangely accommodating to our requests. From what I—_we_—know of the military, they're usually not as cooperative in situations like this. Or, _any_ situation for that matter …"

"You think they're up to something?" Max continued, not liking where this was going.

"With all of America watching, my guess is that the military's trying to dangle their kindheartedness in front everyone's eyes. So that when they do decide to make a move, it'll seem like they've exercised all their options."

He paused to analyze the frown that had suddenly appeared on her face.

"So, either way, we're the bad guys and the losers," she finished for him.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that. I'm sure the government wouldn't strike without provocation."

"It hasn't stopped them from doing what they've done before," she countered.

"That was due to one very corrupt agency. Whether anyone wants to admit it or not, the government's responsible for every single transgenic life in Terminal City. This is their doing. They know it, and I think that fact's slowly dawning on everyone else too," he assured her tiredly, catching an escaping yawn with a white gloved fist. Logan had gotten accustomed to wearing his white latex gloves, it was necessary to avoid a catastrophe.

"Always the optimist," she said with a feeble grin. Even with his words, the anxiety and stress still plagued her.

"Well, you know me," he replied nonchalantly. His outstretched hand settled comfortingly on her shoulder. "Hey … it'll be okay. Trust me. Everyone listens and looks up to you, and you haven't let them down yet."

She finally eased up and smiled. "Yeah, I guess so," she replied, releasing a heavy sigh. "Well, I better go check up on everyone," she stated awkwardly. "I need to continue coaxing OC and Sketchy to leave Terminal City. With things getting so tense, it's likely they'll get caught in the crossfire." She paused. "If there is any, that is."

"Right," he replied distractedly, removing his hand from her shoulder. "There's one last thing, Max," he said, before she left.

"Hm?" she looked at him.

"Word on the informant net is that Congress is constructing some bill involving the transgenics. They're keeping it very quiet, but I'll look into it."

"Probably the official note to make transgenic head hunting legal," she replied cynically.

"Either way, I'll see what I can find. I should go back to work, still got a lot of tinkering to do. Eyes Only is still a long way from being up and running again."

"Good luck with that, I'll see you later."

"Yeah, see you," Logan watched her retreating figure for a second, and then eventually tore his gaze away when his cell phone beeped. "_Finally_, reception," he mumbled, a bit surprised. The radiation in Terminal City had interfered with all outgoing and incoming calls, making outside communication either impossible or very difficult. Either that, or Logan had a really bad phone provider. Flipping his phone open with his uncontaminated hand, he dialed his voice mail and waited patiently. While waiting, he decided to revisit his desk, where an open can of murky, white liquid sat. He pinned the cell phone between his cheek and shoulder and quickly cleaned both his gloved hands in the Clorox, then wiped them dry on a nearby towel. It was standard procedure nowadays.

Logan entered his voice mail password and listened closely. "You have two new messages," the mechanical voice stated. "Message one." _Beep_.

"Long time no talk," a coarse voice said through the static. "All right, I'll make this short until we get a chance to talk. I'm alive. Anyway, I'm sure she doesn't need more chaos at the moment, so don't tell her about this. Tell a few people around her that White's on his way back to Seattle ... with Zack. _Long_ story, I'll explain later. And if you're still wondering. Yeah, this really is Lydecker."

The message seemed to catch him off guard, and with good reason too. Logan hadn't heard from Lydecker in months. The police never found his body, only his waterlogged, bullet ridden, Durango sunk in the harbor. Logan fell into a heavy train of thought, which caused him to neglect the second message altogether. He clicked a button to replay it.

As it turns out, the second message was _twice_ as alarming as the first.

Logan's head jerked back in shock. Were his ears deceiving him? The urgency of both messages struck him almost immediately. He had so many question for Lydecker. Questions, that, apparently, wouldn't be answered for a while. He didn't realize until it was too late that he had knocked over the can of Clorox off the desk. "Hey Luke, help clean this spill up? I need to find Max," he stated hastily. Without waiting for a response, he ran outside the warehouse and started in the direction Max had gone. Then he recalled what Lydecker had said: _so don't tell her about this. Tell a few people around her._ Taking those into complete consideration, Logan turned right around and went towards the opposite direction—towards warehouse 2.

------------------------------------ 

**Location: **Terminal City, Washington. Warehouse 2; the "recreational" room.   
**Time: **3:35 PM PST

When he arrived, he saw Joshua and Mole sitting with a group of Nomalies around a table. They were conversing loudly about something undoubtedly dull. Alec was at the other corner of the warehouse, predictably flirting with a blonde girl. Zeke was busy arm-wrestling Dalton, both X6's had drawn quite a crowd. Everyone else seemed to be occupied with his or her own business, it came to no shock that Logan didn't get so much as a nod when he entered.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a unique creature unlike any other?" Alec was obviously talking to the beautiful blonde X5. "So whenever you're feeling lonely, you can find me at warehouse…" Alec paused abruptly as Logan approached. The two men looked at each other. "Logan, buddy, can this wait?" Alec asked pleadingly. "I'm sort of busy," he nodded towards the woman.

"Sorry to interrupt," Logan said hurriedly, but there was no hint of an apology in his voice. "But we need to talk … _now_."

Alec examined Logan for a second, and then nodded. "Fine, fine. One second." He swiveled around to glance back at the gorgeous blonde that he had just been talking to. "I'll be at warehouse—" Alec paused halfway, and immediately realized he was now talking to air. It seemed that she had walked off. "… Well, that was polite," he stated, aggravated. "Can you believe the _nerve_ of some women?" He then looked back to Logan. "This better be good."

Logan held up a finger to silence Alec, and then turned around to call a few more people over. "Hey big fella, come over here quick," he said to Joshua. He also motioned for Mole to come, as well as Dalton and Zeke once they finished wrenching each other's arms off. The small circle collected in the far corner of the warehouse, and all of them now staring curiously at Logan.

"Yeah, so what?" Mole asked impatiently, pulling his cigar out his mouth to blow out some smoke.

"Smoking's bad," Dalton commented.

Mole sent him a blistering glare.

"But … um, knowing you, you probably have more than two lungs," Dalton quickly alleviated.

Logan raised a brow, then started explaining, he was somewhat in a hurry to get to the significant things. "All right, once I'm done, we need to let Gem, Dix, Luke, in on this too. No more, no less," he stated sternly. "This needs to be kept under wraps, people." Logan paused and took out his cell phone.

"Ooh, top secret stuff," Mole was now very curious.

"It is, trust me. All right, this call came in a few hours ago. It's a message from … Lydecker," he explained. They all seemed to twitch angrily at the sound of that name. "Just listen."

Logan played the aforementioned message for the group. They listened keenly, but no one seemed to have an alarmed reaction aside from Logan. When it finished playing and Lydecker's voice had died down, Joshua released a low growl.

"Lydecker a bad bad man. Father never trusted him," Joshua remarked.

"He's changed," Logan stated, sounding more convinced than he actually felt. "But in any case, this is confirmation of extra trouble coming our way. I'm not sure what to do with the information, because if I did, I most likely wouldn't bother you guys with it. We also need to watch out for Max because—"

"—Um, hold up," Dalton piped up. "Maybe I'm slow … but who exactly _is_ Zack?"

"Yeah, that's what I wanna know too," Mole chipped in.

Logan opened his mouth to explain— but Alec cut in.

"Well, once upon a time, there were twelve genetically engineered kids that escaped from a top secret, illegally funded, government facility—"

"—The _short_ version," Mole interjected.

Alec paused. "All right, all right," and cleared his throat. "In a nutshell, he was one of the twelve who escaped. Lost his life, heart, and actually the rest of his insides during the Manticore infiltration or … something like that. Came back as a psycho Robocop with a jumbled memory, tried to kill Logan because … well, I can't tell you that. Max kicked his ass, he lost his memory again, and then …" Alec's voice trailed off, and he looked to Logan to finish the rest of the story. Alec didn't know the specifics after that.

"We gave him a new identity, relocated him to some place quieter and safer," Logan filled in the blank spots.

"But apparently not safe enough, since White has him," Alec tossed in.

"Well … yeah," Logan agreed begrudgingly.

"How close was Zack to Max?" Zeke asked, he hadn't said a thing in a while.

"Very close," Logan replied summarily. He thought back to his past encounters with Zack, few of them were pleasant. "The question is, what should I tell her? She's needed in Terminal City, and even though I doubt she could smash through the barricade and go storming off to save Zack, I know that this news will probably affect her concentration on other things."

"Well that's obvious. She needs to focus on Terminal City, of course, it's the here and now. Some X5 who got chopped up isn't any of our business," Mole stated gruffly.

"But it's her brother," Zeke argued, "she should at least know, then decide what to do for herself."

"He's not her brother anymore, weren't you listening, kid? His memory's wiped clean. For all we know, White's got Zack working for him now," Mole countered.

Logan seemed startled by this idea. Lydecker hadn't told him if White had turned Zack, or if that White was holding Zack captive. _Great, way to make a complicated thing that much more complex. _

"But he's her _family_," Zeke replied rebelliously. Normally quiet, the X6 was bizarrely putting up a fight at the moment. And what's more, it was with _Mole_— someone who many in Terminal City wouldn't bother quarrel with.

"Or what's left of him is," Joshua added clumsily, without thinking.

Alec choked back a snicker. Logan glared at him.

"I don't think we should tell her and stress her out more," Dalton chimed in mildly. "I mean, after this whole blockade thing gets resolved, she can do whatever she wants. But right now she has a responsibility to Terminal City and everyone here."

"This kid's got a good point, I say we don't tell Max," Mole tossed in his support for that idea.

"Joshua won't lie to little fella," Joshua stated tentatively, "but … Joshua won't say anything about brother Zack unless he's asked." In other words, he was agreeing with Mole.

Alec pondered this for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, what the hell. For the greater good, I don't think we should tell Max either. One crisis at a time."

Logan opened his mouth to comment on that, but he would wait until Zeke tossed in his judgment. The boy seemed indifferent to it all by now. "Doesn't matter what I think, right? Majority rules," he stated in a resigned tone. "And I'll honor that …" his voice trailed off before picking up again, "… but you _do_ know that Max is going to kick all your asses when you eventually tell her, right?"

Everyone fell silent except for Alec. They all seemed to dread the idea of getting on Max's bad side— except for him of course, given that he was _always_ on that side. "Oh, it's not so bad. She throws around a couple of mean phrases like 'I'm going to kick your ass' and 'watch me bitchslap your stupid face' and so on and so forth. But … that's about it, really."

They all paled.

"Um … so we all agree?" Logan cut in hastily.

Reluctantly, they all nodded their heads.

"Are you going to tell OC?" Alec abruptly asked.

"There's no need. OC's packing to leave Terminal City soon, along with Sketchy and Normal," Logan answered.

"Wait, what? Why?" Alec replied.

"Max is coaxing them to leave right now," Logan explained. "She doesn't want non-transgenics in Terminal City any longer, what with the toxins here and all," he pointed out.

"Yeah, and the tanks, the machine guns, the soldiers outside ready to murder us, and … oh yeah, the biblically bad thing that's prophesized to kill everyone," Mole tossed in.

"… That too," Logan replied, tossing a wry smile in Mole's direction.

"_Riight_," Alec replied with a raised brow.

"Are we done?" Mole asked. "I mean, that news didn't seem _that_ urgent."

"Not yet," Logan answered quickly. "Now here's … the most important part." Logan's expression turned from gloomy to stern instantaneously. He pressed a button on his cell phone and held it forward. The volume was increased enough so that everyone in the circle could hear clearly, but not so much that the sound would carry outside. "This was sent … two hours later," he announced.

He pressed play.

"Cale, it's me again," this time, Lydecker's voice seemed stronger and his tone contained a hint of urgency.

"I hate to always be the bearer of bad news, but it's my duty to protect my kids—especially Max. Until we can talk face to face and I can explain everything, just know that we tapped into a conversation between White and a familiar. Be careful who you share this information with and be sure to look out for Max afterwards, since we know they're especially gunning for her.

"Don't ask me how this happened; just know that it _is_ happening. The Conclave's ready to move in, I don't know how or when, but I know that they are. By the sound of it, they're being fed detailed interior information. There was everything from food distribution times to a catalogue of weapon models in the armory. That leads me to believe one thing," they all heard Lydecker sigh heavily.

"There's a traitor inside Terminal City."

------------------------------------

**A/N:** … No comment, for once.


	4. Daylight Fading

**Disclaimer: **The Elements, they belong to me. The idea came from the episode "Exposure" where Max encounters that telekinetic boy who can move things with his mind. If the Conclave could breed someone like that, I have no doubt in my mind that the Elements are plausible.

"Fudgy Buddy" was a snack that White bought in "Dawg Day Afternoon." Don't worry; I always double-check my facts before writing.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long wait (well, depending on your definition of long). I just returned from China a few days ago and was extremely jetlagged. It was an amazing trip, by the way, and I highly recommend anyone to visit it.

After that, I had a serious case of dreaded Writer's block and lethargy, don't worry— I got over it fast.

****

**The Gift of Daylight **

Chapter 4: Daylight Fading

**Location: **Fudgy Buddy Factory in Seattle, Washington.

**Time: **7:10 PM PST

The stealthy footsteps came around the corner ten meters away and continued towards him; and Oz, pressed painfully back into the slightly recessed doorway that was the only cover for those same ten meters, abandoned the faint hope that his pursuers would miss him and prepared for the eventual fight.

The footsteps were getting closer. It would be just his luck, Oz thought sourly, to be taken in by a fake pair of rogue X5's, only to be used as prey in a sick practice routine in the end. They had gotten the rest of his team, a makeshift group of captured transgenics set loose in this hell house of a training facility. They had hunted each of them like animals, one by one — and now they were coming for him.

And then, maybe five meters away, the footsteps abruptly stopped … and in the sudden silence he heard a stifled breath.

He'd been spotted.

Without hesitation, the blue transgenic pushed off the wall he was leaning against and drew the firearm he was given. He squeezed off a few bullets at the approaching young man. The boy's face wasn't visible in the dim lighting but Oz could make out the abnormally muscular physique for a boy his age and height. By the way the bullets didn't seem to faze him at all, Oz guessed that there was much more to this boy than visible.

The figure charged at him at a startlingly rapid speed for someone as heavy as him. Oz easily rolled out of the way and swung his foot forward with all his might. His boot made contact with the boy's side, and the other grunted in anger. Oz saw his chance to escape and turned around to make a wild dash for the open door that was no more than five meters away.

He could almost feel the warm sunlight on his face before a sharp pain cut through his thoughts and jolted up through his spine. He felt his vision blur as he hit the ground with a soft thud. Ignoring the cries of his body, the transgenic spun around to face his attacker. It was a … girl, a teenage girl from the looks of it. Behind her approached the enormous boy, and another skinny boy who had blood stained on his shirt. The girl approached Oz nonchalantly. "Sorry about this," she announced regretfully. "Nothing personal, I hope you know."

Oz opened his mouth but choked on his words as her hand shot forward and grasped him tightly by the neck. His own hands shot up in an attempt to wrench hers off, but it was to no avail. The girl's grip was solid steel. She was probably two-thirds his size, but here he was, being held off the ground by one hand. As tears welled up in his eyes, Oz heard a sickening snap.

He saw daylight for a brief moment. Then darkness.

On the second floor of the warehouse, Ames White clapped unenthusiastically. He was leaning against the railing and wearing a sick grin on his face.

Reeve clicked a button on the stopwatch. "25:10," he announced loudly, letting the echo carry his voice to the three kids below. "That's a new record." The numbers were scribbled down on a notebook, which contained a list of other times. "Zack?" he turned around to face the silent blond X5.

This was Zack's twelfth exercise with the group, and each and every time, he fell into a deep silence until it was all over. It took some adjustment at first, but the carnage never sent Zack into the kind of shock an ordinary person would experience. He had a few flashbacks of his childhood in the beginning, but memories and doubts aside, he had voluntarily assumed the rank of group leader. A position he was made for.

His jaw was solidly set and his piercing eyes betrayed no emotion as he overlooked the entire area below him. The change in his posture was also notable. Zack looked much more intimidating now, his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of the black leather jacket he was wearing, emphasizing his impressive build. This wasn't the farm boy they had picked up a few days ago.

This was a soldier.

"Poor evasion tactics, Davis," Zack declared dully. "What have I told you about using your arms to divert incoming bullets?"

Davis was the muscular boy with unruly dark brown hair and soft green eyes. His body didn't suit his gentle personality and seemed entirely too big for him. He lowered his head. "Sorry Zack, I forgot," he affirmed earnestly.

"Seth, the entire beheading thing was entirely needless. Not to mention messy," Zack continued, ignoring Davis. Seth was the pale skinny boy with black hair and what looked like black eyes, but what was probably the darkest shade of brown. He was gaunt, thin, and sickly looking. "Worst of all, you got the floor dirty and ruined your shirt," Zack finished.

Seth licked his lips maliciously and nodded in acknowledgement. He was the never-to-talk type. The boy had never said a word in his life. Many in the Conclave settled on the fact that he was mute. Seth didn't say a word to argue that theory.

"Rianne—" Zack called.

Rianne snapped to attention.

"For the _last_ time. You're _not_ suppose to apologize to your target before you terminate," the tone Zack used was half irritated and half amused.

"Yes, sir," she said sullenly.

"But overall, very proficient, gang. I like how the three of you used the cornering tactic we practiced. Besides that last one who got separated from his group, it secluded the rest of the prey in a convenient environment before elimination. We just need to work on accuracy. Dismissed."

The three kids, all awkward looking dressed in their now dirty military clothes nodded in acknowledgement and started toward their separate ways. Davis was picking at the bloody holes in his body and removing the bullets out of his skin like lint off clothes, Seth was stroking his chin thoughtfully as he stalked off towards the cleaning room to get changed, and Rianne turned around to run a critical eye over the man she had just murdered in cold blood. She didn't show a hint of regret, only a childlike curiosity at her handiwork.

"Rianne, I need to talk to you for a moment."

The girl snapped to attention and looked up at her commanding officer, who was standing a floor above her. By now, Zack had gotten used to dealing with these three very … unique kids. Rianne stomped one foot on the floor and kicked off the ground easily. She ascended upwards in a graceful fashion, as if she were as light as paper. Rianne levitated over the railing easily, and before long, she stood silently beside an awaiting Zack.

"Okay, now about your battle mechanics …" Zack's voice trailed off as the two of them walked together towards the cafeteria, leaving Reeve and White alone.

Besides the hum of the lights, it was entirety quiet.

White adjusted his tie. "What do you think?" he asked into the silence.

Reeve had been adamantly staring at his stopwatch and the notebook the entire time. He wanted to avoid the messy scene below at all costs. "Send for the cleaning crews, we're done in here," he spoke into the walkie-talkie before latching it back onto his belt.

The warehouse lights flashed to life and revealed the extent of the destruction. Cleaning crews poured from seemingly everywhere onto the first floor of the warehouse to remove corpses and wipe the area clean. It was like a movie stage, except the blood was real. And so was the death.

"Um, impressive?" he replied hesitantly. Reeve looked nauseated as one of janitors extracted an arm. "Though I'm not likely to randomly pull someone's head off with my bare hands like that kid did. But— that's just me of course."

"More like incredible," White retorted in a triumphant tone. He ignored Reeve's second statement, as it had no bearing to White's original question. In all honesty, White found the beheading gruesome himself, if not fascinating. "It's a shame they're horrible with firearms. It's the trade-off for their … other talents."

"Their bodies are their weapons, as we've seen … over … and over again. They'll be fine and you know it," he assured quietly. "Which one isn't a true Element again?" this time his voice was louder, he had to talk over the chatter of the cleaning crews below.

"The really pale one," White replied, "Seth."

"That's right, he doesn't really fit in with the other two. I think he's missing a few screws or something."

"He's an efficient killer," White defended. "And besides, the Element he's replacing is out of commission and permanently removed from this mission. She's been comatose for months."

"Wait, what the hell was strong enough to put an Element into a coma?" Reeve paused scribbling for a moment to look up. He was, frankly, very interested to hear White's response to this one.

White examined the scene below for a few seconds, and then looked up at Reeve. His face betrayed no emotion and Reeve's question slipped off him like water on wax. "We're set to deploy at 0400 hours," he continued coolly. "We're instructed to serve as backup. I'm providing air support, you're with the group when they infiltrate."

"In other words, I'm going to get shot at. And you'll safely be in a helicopter." Reeve replied cynically.

"_In other words_," White stated, impatient as ever, "as the X5's keeper, you're to stay with him at _all_ times. Or have you forgotten your promise?"

"Don't be ridiculous, of course I haven't."

"Good. That's our briefing. The Priestess was, naturally, short for words." White reached into his pocket to extract a small list of cities and dates beside them. His gaze stopped at the top of the list. "Hm, great," he mumbled brightly, folding the piece of paper and slipping it back into his pocket. "Let me show you something," White suggested, breaking into a quick walk.

Reeve followed without question, shutting the notebook and pocketing his stopwatch and pen. The two men walked beside each other towards the lounge room where a group of suited familiars were prepared to use the training facility they had just left. When the group exited, White grabbed the remote and switched on the TV.

Reeve raised a brow and stood patiently in place.

"Pay attention," White forcefully jabbed the remote in the direction of the screen. "And listen."

The monitor flickered to life to show a newscast. It was the usual blonde lady that Reeve usually found attractive. But for now, he looked past appearances to listen.

_… The mayor had no comment on how to resolve the current tense standoff. He was quoted to say, "no matter the outcome, the city of Seattle places its trust in the United States Government 100%." _

_ Next. Recent mysterious deaths in New York, Dallas, and Boise have stirred rumors inside the FDC's offices. "We have no comment at this time. Until we have pinpointed the causes of death, we would like to warn everyone against bad hygiene." The random deaths were pinpointed to be health related causes with no hinting symptoms. Sectors in the mentioned cities had a dramatic drop in population since last week, and the death toll continues to rise. Many speculate plague, but others dismiss it as a new form of the flu. Channel 5 will keep you updated. _

_ In other news, the Olympic committee has decided The 2024 olympics will be held in … _

White shut the TV off and turned to face Reeve, grinning contentedly.

Reeve took an involuntarily step back, and felt something tight catch in his throat. He understood exactly what Ames had showed him him, but still couldn't believe his ears. _So soon? _Yet here it was, after thousands of years of planning, an irreversible chain of events had been put into motion.

Even with rudimentary sensing abilities, White sensed the ripple of shock go through the other man. "Well?" White asked into the silence.

Reeve looked slightly paler than before and nodded in acknowledgement.

"It's begun."

------------------------------------

**Location: **Terminal City, Washington.

**Time: **9:30 PM PST

"Let me get this straight," she said in an exasperated tone as the three of them walked down an alley. "You tripped on a barrel, landed on the dog, and it ran off in here somewhere?" she stopped in place and waved a hand around the area where many empty cardboard boxes were stacked. Some were folded, others were scattered.

"… Yep, that's exactly what happened," the young kid replied cheerily, as if losing his dog was the best thing that could happen. He looked shorter than he normally was, standing between Max and Dalton.

"But if you landed on the dog, wouldn't you have pinned it down before it ran?" Max asked, raising a brow as she gave the area another quick glance. A frown surfaced on her face as she assessed the situation. This would, most likely, take forever and an hour to solve.

Dalton looked at the puzzled kid and stopped him from talking mid-sentence. "Well Max … Blake here probably just swiped the dog's tail before it took off running," he offered. "Nothing Blake could've done to stop it, isn't that right, Blake?"

"Right," Blake answered. Max could have sworn she heard a hint of relief in his tone.

Max turned around to face the kid, eyeing him suspiciously. She then looked up at Dalton and sighed. "Can't _you_ fix this? I've been running all over the place today. First Mole needs help finding four cartons of bullets, then Gem needs an emergency baby-sitter for Hope, Joshua loses his bottle of flea powder—which, at the end—we found out was a false alarm since he didn't have fleas to begin with. Logan wants to see me later this evening because something 'urgent' came up, and now—"

"—You know I'd _love_ to help, Max," Dalton interrupted.

Max perked up. "Really?"

"But …" he continued, "I'm allergic to dogs. So … no. I'll just sit over here with Blake until you can find—" he paused and looked at Blake.

"Sunny," Blake finished for him.

Max glared at the both of them.

Dalton nodded. "Right. Sunny." A few boxes were picked up and used as temporary seats for the two guys. "Sorry," he offered apologetically to ease the blistering glare she was sending him.

Max just sighed and stole a quick glance at her watch. "Promise me after this you get a leash for him," she said to Blake mock threateningly.

Blake nodded hurriedly. "Yeah Max, definitely."

"Good. I better … start then." With a large groan, Max began rummaging through the stacks of boxes in search of the dog. As expected, it took about two hours of grumbling and digging before Sunny appeared. To everyone's surprise, well, to Max's surprise at least, the dog came running out of the alley they had just passed. Max instantly paled in frustration. "What the—?"

"Oh, _there_ you are, Sunny," Blake announced loudly. "Bad boy," Blake reprimanded. "Well, thanks Max. This won't happen again. Promise." Blake scurried off before Max could exhale, now holding in his hand what looked like two chocolate bars.

"Where did he get—?"

"—Good job, Max," Dalton patted her on the back and nodded. "I knew your super X5 senses could get the job done," he declared confidently. "Don't you have a meeting with Logan at … um, now?"

Max opened her mouth to say something but paused and checked her watch. "Damn. Late."

"I'm sure Logan won't mind," he stated matter-of-factly. "How about I walk you there?" he offered mildly. By the look of it, the sentence was more a statement than a question. He took her by the elbow and led her in the direction of warehouse 7.

"You don't need to. It's not like anyone in Terminal City's going to jump me," she said sarcastically. "Besides, today it seems like _everyone's_ been leading me everywhere," she announced, irritation leaking into her voice. "It's a little weird, don't you think?" as they continued to walk past various buildings, Max ran a critical eye over Dalton, studying his features.

"Um, is that so? Haven't noticed a thing," he replied quickly, idly casting a glance behind his shoulder. "Well, here's VII. I'll catch you later, I need to …" he mumbled something incoherently, "and then after that, I gotta …" his voice trailed off. "So yeah, busy busy. Catch ya later." Dalton started in the other direction quickly before she could say a proper good-bye.

_What the hell is up with everyone today?_ Feeling understandably fatigued, due to the hectic dealings of today, she settled into the nearest chair she could find. It was brought relief to her mildly sore muscles. "Hey Dix, is Logan here?"

The transgenic being questioned was tinkering with something at the moment, standing over a table rusted metal table as he worked. Dix jammed a screwdriver into the Microwave's back panel as she said this. "Oh _man_," he groaned loudly. "Stabbed right through the power supply. Great, now I've done it. Unless … say Max, would you mind running out to XV and getting me a power supply?" he didn't dare look at her. "I'll come with you too if you want," he offered quickly.

Max could have sworn her body temperature rose a few degrees at those words. "DIX," she repeated very loudly this time. "Is Logan here or not?" the manner in which she posed the question demanded an immediate answer. Max felt instantly guilty for taking out her anger on someone as harmless as Dix. But … hey, he was asking her to walk to the other side of Terminal City after she had ran a million other errands.

Everyone in the room jerked a bit, but only Dix dropped a screwdriver. "Actually, no," he answered timidly. "Mentioned something about getting a processor someone found near II. Said he'd be a little late."

Little was an understatement. When Logan arrived, close to a full hour had passed. When he finally did come, he held something covered in a ragged cloth in his arms. The cloaked item was placed on the table with a _clunk_.

"You're late," Max pointed out, the words sounding harsher than she intended.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that. Heard someone made a find near warehouse two. It might help Eyes Only get back up and running, so I had to check it out," he replied. "You understand, of course," he dismissed the topic with a quick wave of his hand.

"You're forgiven," she said quickly, feeling the frustration inside of her quell. "So you wanted to see me?" quick to the point, as usual.

"Right, yeah. Can we talk over here?" he walked towards his desk and tapped a key on his laptop to make the screen saver disappear. When the passing stars disappeared, a photo-viewing program appeared. Logan used his mouse to click passed a few pictures, before coming to the shot he wanted. It was promptly enlarged with another click of the button. "This'll only take a second to load," he commented.

Max cringed and leaned against the desk tiredly, mindful to keep her distance from Logan. She tried her hardest to suppress the unpleasant expression she knew was ready to surface as her fingers tapped on the desk's top impatiently.

"Bad day?" Logan inquired from beside her.

"Something like that," she quipped sourly.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Just don't make it any worse."

"I apologize in advance if I do," he replied, as the photo finished loading. "See this?" he tapped the laptop's screen.

It was a shot of Max's arm and the runes that had surfaced on her skin. By now, she had gotten used to becoming a human textbook, even if she didn't know what the writing on her skin meant. Max had remembered Logan taking the picture a few days ago, she figured now that he had probably translated them. "Yeah, so?"

"Finally translated them," he said gravely, confirming Max's prediction.

"… Why do I have the feeling that I'm not going to like what you're about to tell me?" she stated cautiously, eyeing him.

"Because you're not going to like it at all," he conceded jadedly. Logan tapped a button on his keyboard to replace the photo with a screen of only the said symbols. Below them was a typed out English translation. "This is in continuation to the prophecy from first set of runes I translated a while ago. This should be the end of it," his voice announced cautiously, studying her face as he began to read them out loud.

Max, of course, had already read what was on the screen the second it appeared. A flood of thoughts drowned Logan's voice out.

_The guardian of life's betrayal will return the meek to their mother. From dust they came, to dust they will return._

"… to dust they will return," Logan recited the last few words loudly, catching Max's attention in the process.

"And that means … what, exactly?" Max questioned, her eyes connecting solidly with his blues. Ever since the runes had been translated, the pressure on her shoulders infinitely increased. It wasn't just Terminal City that was at stake, as she was told. But rather, the entire human civilization. She ignored the knot in her stomach that had developed as she waited for a response.

Logan was rummaging through the drawers of his desk and finally pulled out— to Max's surprise— a tattered bible. The cover was worn down, but the inside pages were preserved enough so they were readable.

"I think this is a bad time for a sermon," she announced. Apparently when Logan said something 'biblically bad' was going to happen, he wasn't kidding.

"You'll find this enlightening, don't worry." His fingers found a placed bookmark and he flipped to the saved page. "That entire last sentence sounded familiar to me, I knew I had heard it somewhere. Luckily, after some flipping, I found it a few hours ago," the opened bible was held up in front of her face.

"Thank God," she replied cynically. Max avoided touching the book and read the line Logan's finger was resting under. It was, startlingly enough, a variation of what Logan had just translated from her arm. "…_ for dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return."_

"It means death, of course, as does everything else in this damn prophecy," she stated nervously. "All right, so the world's coming to an end, I think we've got that part locked down for a while now. Question is, how is it going to happen and how are we going to stop it?"

Logan snapped the book shut and replaced it in the drawer. "Hm, one problem at a time," he used the mouse to highlight the first part of the prophecy. "_The guardian of life's betrayal will return the meek to their mother,_" he repeated aloud. "Guardian … of … life," each word came out steadily. Logan paused to contemplate this.

"Something that protects people?" Max offered. "Like a weapon of some sort?"

"Maybe, but we're talking about protection in mass quantities here. 'Guardian of life' as in all life, I'm guessing."

"I'll give it some thought later," she replied. "_… 'will return the meek to their mother'_ probably means … death too." There was a lot of death involved here.

"To their _mother_," Logan emphasized the last word.

"Meek as in regular people I guess …" she said.

"And mother as in …"

"The Earth," someone interrupted from behind. Both of them had been so occupied with the half riddle half clue that they failed to notice Dalton approaching.

"How long have you been standing there?" Max asked in a pressing tone, frowning.

"Not long," he admitted. "I love riddles though, heard something about guardians, and mothers …" his voice trailed off. "So … are you two going to tell me what's going on or will you let curiosity eat away at me until I find out?"

Max and Logan exchanged wary glances. Max was the one to reply. "This is sort of a delicate issue."

Dalton shrugged and ran a hand through his dyed hair. "Ooh, the top secret stuff, huh? Don't worry, I won't tell."

Max paused and sent a questioning look at Logan.

"Well he _is_ good at riddles," Logan offered optimistically.

Still uncertain, Max eventually resigned to telling the young X6 in hopes of getting some help. _Any_ help. "We're … trying to figure out what type of disaster is going to wipe out the planet's population."

Dalton blinked. Twice.

"Oh that's nice. If you didn't want to tell me, you could have just said so," he said with a huff, setting a black bag on the table beside the laptop. "I got your stuff right here, Logan," he motioned to the bag before turning to leave. "Later." And he was gone, leaving Max and Logan staring blankly at each other.

"That was weird," Logan spoke up.

"Yeah," Max agreed.

"Back to this. If 'mother' is earth then it's talking about … death again, yeah, I guess you're right. But most importantly is the 'guardian of life' part. It seems to be the cause of this death. Until we find out who or what it is, we can't stop anything."

"I wish he hadn't written the entire thing in a language we can barely translate, and in a form we can't understand," she announced exasperatedly. "Anything on finding Sandeman?"

"Unfortunately, no. And even if I found him, there's the small task of getting past the military blockade." Logan rubbed his temples in an attempt to relieve some stress.

"So we're on our own," Max deduced.

"Seems so," he said regretfully. "Our best bet is to work with what we have now, and hope that the runes aren't finished appearing on your skin. Speaking of which, if any new ones show up—"

"—You'll be the first to know," she assured him quickly. A virtue that Max lacked was patience, and this entire situation was testing it right now. She hated feeling useless even if she might be the key to saving the human civilization; right now she was a sitting duck. She checked her watch, it was late. "Anything else before I blaze?"

"Hm," Logan gave it some thought. "What happened to Sketchy, OC, Normal, and the rest of them?"

"Finally convinced them that it was safer outside of T.C. Left earlier today in the empty food trucks, I personally saw them get through the blockade. That was right before …" she took a deep breath, ready to recite today's events, "… Mole dragged me into the armory to look for a box of bullets someone lost, babysitting Hope—who, by the way— was really cranky today, trying to find Joshua's flea powder when he didn't really have fleas, helping Dalton help Blake, and … yeah, it's just been a long day," she stopped her rambling at the sight of Logan's amused grin. "It's not funny," she stated flatly.

"I didn't say anything," he replied innocently. "You heading to sleep? That's unlike you."

"No, I'm not really sleepy," she confessed. "But I figure if I hide out in my room, no one else will bug me."

"Sounds like a plan." Logan's attention was diverted to the door, where Zeke's head peeked in.

"Hey Max," Zeke called out. "Hope won't stop bawling, it's driving me crazy! You know I'd feel bad kicking Gem out, so … can I stay with you for a while?"

"No," Max replied, a little too quickly. "I'm staying in one of the labs, lab tables weren't made for sleeping, and they don't exactly fit a lot of people."

"Aw come on! I'll take the floor, I don't snore or anything," he pleaded.

"But I do," Max countered. It was a lie. "_Loudly_."

"I'll take it over a baby's screeching any day," Zeke replied. "Please? All the other warehouses are full; I'd be stuck sleeping outside on the cold dirt. The guilt will give you nightmares, I swear."

"I doubt it." Nevertheless, Max groaned and jammed her hand into her pocket to extract her room keys. Being a first hand witness to Hope's tantrums, she finally gave in. "Fine, but you get the floor," she tossed the keys at him, "or the counter. Wherever."

He snatched them out of the air and threw her a thumbs-up accompanied with a grin. "You're the best."

When Max turned her back on Zeke, the X6 sent a nod at Logan. Logan sent an approving nod in return before the other disappeared.

"So much for alone time. I miss the space needle."

Logan flinched at the mention of the space needle.

"Oh yeah, forgot you were terrified of heights," she quipped.

"I'm _not_ scared of heights," he retorted, slightly defensive.

She sent him a disbelieving look. "Sure you aren't."

"It's the falling and dying part that makes me nervous," he finished with a grin. "Any word from Clemente?"

"Not yet. He said he would be busy with some important government for the next few days. It probably involves us. I'm guessing he'll fill us in when he calls."

"Ah, okay then. Clemente always comes through," Logan tossed in. "You better head back now, it's late, and you look tired."

"I'm not. But that sounds like a good idea anyway," she admitted.

"I'll keep at this translating business, the fight for the survival of the human race sort of involves me too."

"Gotcha. I hope tomorrow's different, I don't think I could handle another day like today." And she honestly meant it. As helpful as Max liked to be, she wasn't Superwoman. Superwoman, hm …

As if on cue, Alec poked his head in the door. "Hey Max!" he yelled loudly, causing her to cringe.

Tired, disheveled, and cranky, she slowly, very slowly, turned around to face him. "_What_?" she demanded.

His grin didn't falter, in fact, it widened. "Gotta problem down in XII. If you're not busy, could you help with …"

"—NO."

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**Location: **Terminal City, Washington.

**Time: **1:55 AM PST

It was Alec's turn on watch. Despite all his efforts to dodge it— here he was, in a dim-litted hallway, outside of Max's room, with a blanket and Terminal's City's version of a pillow.

"Well this is just _great_," he stated sourly as the lights flickered off for the third time since Alec got here. They eventually flickered back on, but Alec was beyond attempting to catch up on sleep at this point. But above all, the labs here smelled of old chemicals, despite the worker drones clean-up effort. Alec would choose his old apartment over this any day.

His back pressed against the cool surface of the wall, shaking some loose paint chips off as he began cursing Logan. "_He_ comes up with this brilliant plan, and everyone else ends up doing the work and getting yelled at by that sadomasochistic—"

"—What brilliant plan?" Max inquired as she walked up the hallway. Her hair and clothes were drenched, and as she approached the sitting Alec, her boots left a trail of water in its wake. "It's ridiculous out there, by the way," she gestured outside, swiping a loose strand of hair away.

Alec blinked. "Wait a minute," he started, "… You aren't in your …" he pointed at the door.

"No," she replied heatedly. "Dix needed me to get some batteries for his microwave at the last minute. He said the 'entire population of Terminal City would suffer from starvation' if not. I think he was just in a hurry to make toast."

"Then who's in …" Alec reached over to bang his fist against the door a few times. A few seconds passed before someone answered.

The door creaked open and Zeke's head popped out, a pair of eye covers blacked out his vision, but they were promptly removed. "What the hell is it?" he asked crankily. Zeke blinked a few times to clear the sleep out of his eyes. "Oh— heh, sorry, didn't know it was you two," he stated meekly. Zeke apologized profusely.

_It's HIS watch today? _Well that just did it for Alec. "You told me it was my watch," he jabbed a finger accusingly at Zeke. "I've been out here for an hour!"

Zeke blinked. "Did I say that?"

"Whose watch? What?" Max interrupted.

"Yeah, you did," Alec retorted, ignoring Max.

"Um … oops? Yours is tomorrow." Zeke flashed him a nervous smile.

Alec twitched noticeably. "Hey … wait a minute, were you sleeping on the job?"

Zeke flinched.

Miscommunication was one thing, slacking off was a whole different story. If something happened to Max, everything in Terminal City would be screwed. "For an X6, Zeke, you are, by far, one of the WORST soldiers I have ever met, you know that?" he said heatedly.

"Eh … I get that a lot actually," Zeke replied ruefully.

"Whose watch?" Max demanded.

The guys had no time to answer because the lights flickered, and then shut off yet again. "_Great_," they all said in unison.

Max could see in the dark, so it was no problem, really. It was just inconvenient. She heard a thump, and then a string of muttered curses.

"Ow. This sucks," Zeke said into the darkness. He rubbed his forehead furiously. "Geez, I can't see anything to save my life—"

"—Deal with it," Alec cut in. He had cooled down significantly, and regretted his outburst in the first place. Not only did he predict he'd get his ass kicked by Max, but also by Joshua, Mole, Logan, and the rest of them _if_ she found out. He decided to drop the topic of guard duty right away, and change the subject. "So, um, this must be the longest brown-out yet, right Max?" he asked, with his back to her.

There was another loud thud, a squeak, and some scraping. "_Right_, Max?" he repeated in the darkness.

Slowly, Alec peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of her. The lights flickered back on just then.

She was gone.

------------------------------------

**A/N:** I feel bad for neglecting Alec, especially when he's my favorite character. Anyway, I'm going to have fun writing the next chapter, lots of death and destruction. Mwahaha. R&R please. =)


	5. Shatter Point

**Disclaimer: **The usual stuff, Dark Angel belongs to James Cameron and FOX. The Elements, Reeve, and the plot are mine. Yay.

**Author's Note: **I wanted to state my appreciation for the kind reviews I've gotten so far, thank you so much!

The next chapter might be a little delayed because I'll be busy working to _finally_ get my driver's license on the 30th— assuming I pass the test (I really hope so).

I had Tom Welling aka Clark Kent from Smallville in mind when it came to Zane's appearance.

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 5: Shatter Point

_"The object of war is not to die for your country, _ _but to make the other bastard die for his."_

—George Patton

**Location: **Terminal City, Washington 

**Time: **2:00 AM PST

"This is bad. This is _oh_ so bad," he muttered anxiously. Zeke yanked his sweatshirt hood up and stepped into the rain behind Alec. His boots made odd squelching sounds as it met the soggy mud.

"Would you be _quiet_?" Alec snapped, waving the flashlight around the area. For the most part, Terminal City was empty at this time of night. Many transgenics took shelter inside the warehouses or under ground in the sewers. This made things much simpler since Alec and Zeke didn't have to sort through a crowd in heavy rain. At the same time, the vacant and dark area made things much dangerous too.

"I think we should get Logan and the rest of them," Zeke suggested, shoving his hands into his pockets, shivering uncontrollably. "They'll know what to do … and have I ever mentioned that I hate water? I _hate_ water," he muttered, and bit down on his bottom lip in an effort to calm his wild chattering.

"And what, get yelled at by all of them for losing Max? No thanks," he replied uneasily. "Come on, don't lag. This _is_ your fault, after all." Alec threw a glance behind his shoulder to examine Zeke. "Man, you really _do_ hate water, don't you?" he sounded really amused. In fact, he was.

Zeke glared sourly.

The two continued trudging past various warehouses in the heavy rain. They were soaked through in and through out as they ventured into the different dark and damp alleys of Terminal City. Zeke kept mumbling complaints the entire way, which warranted Alec to consistently tell him to shut up.

"We're almost at the end of Terminal City," Alec announced loudly, over the sound of the water, as the two of them approached Warehouse 15. "There's Warehouse 15 right there, right behind that black SUV."

"We're never going to find her then," Zeke stated, exasperated.

The two of them paused, blinked, then slowly looked at each other.

"Hey Alec?" Zeke called out.

"Yeah, Zeke?" he replied.

"I didn't know we had cars in Terminal City," he stated.

"We don't," Alec replied matter-of-factly.

"Then do you think we should check out that black truck over there then?"

"I think that's the best idea you've made tonight, Zeke."

It was a short walk to the black Durango; the car was tucked underneath Warehouse 15's extended roof. Relieved to get out of the water, but hesitant to approach a mysterious car, the two cautiously approached it from the side.

"Alec, what's the plan?" Zeke whispered from behind him.

"I'll knock on the door while you wait here. If I happen to get shot and/or die during the process, that would be your cue to sound the alarm," Alec replied, pulling out a silencer from his jacket pocket and loading it with bullets.

"Right. Gotcha," Zeke replied, giving him a thumbs-up. "… Wait a minute, you're not _really_ going to die—"

But Alec had already moved towards the Durango.

Zeke could see the X5 duck his head down and kneel under the car's window as he approached the side door. He gave Zeke a string of hand signals, visibly braced himself, then yanked the door open, gun drawn and raised. Instantaneously, a pair of hands seized Alec by the shoulders and pulled him into the SUV. The door slammed shut, and everything was silent again, save for the thud of the rain.

Zeke paled, and turned around to leave quickly.

"Oh damn," he muttered a string of curses. "This is bad, this is _really_ bad. Gotta sound the alarm—"

"—I'll tell you exactly what you're going to do," an authoritative voice stated from behind him.

Zeke froze in place. Reflexively, he clenched his fists and twisted around to send a swing at whoever was behind. Luckily he stopped himself before the fist made contact, or rather, _she_ blocked the punch in mid-air with her arm.

"Hey hey, what the hell are you doing?" she demanded.

He recognized that voice.

"Max!" he called out, relief apparent in his tone. "You're okay! Hey, what happened? Where'd you go? Man, we were so worried! Oh yeah … sorry, thought you were going to kill me or something."

She raised a brow, lowering her arm slowly. She absently rubbed the spot where her arm had met his. "Are you sure I'm not?" she asked sarcastically. "Anyway, here's what I want you to do. I want you to run and wake up Logan, Joshua, Dalton, and Mole. Bring them here as fast as you can. It's important."

Zeke blinked a few times, the confusion obvious on his drenched face. "Yeah okay, whatever you say, Max. What's going on?"

"I'll tell you later," she promised. "But first, you need to get them here."

"Okay, but what do I tell them?" he asked through tightly clenched teeth. Zeke blew hot air into his hand and rubbed them together.

She paused a moment to consider this question— then smiled. "Tell them that … we're having an X5 reunion."

------------------------------------

**Location: **Above Terminal City, Washington. 

**Time: **2:55 AM PST

"You knew this was inevitable, Agent White."

"I do … but wouldn't his death be unnecessary collateral damage?"

"His purpose to the Conclave has been fulfilled, he'll become detrimental to the mission."

"With all due respect, Priestess, but the others will not understand."

"_Make_ them understand, Agent White."

There was a pause.

"… I bow to the wisdom. Fe'nos Tol," he concluded, flipping his cell phone shut and slipping it into his coat pocket. White swiveled his seat around to peer out the helicopter's window. Down below, Terminal City slept uneasily, and with good reason.

His walkie-talkie came to life. "Hey Whitey," a voice called from the other side.

White sighed, clicked a button, and brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Was the sewer door opened, as planned?"

"That's a positive. We're behind schedule because he was delayed for some reason. We're inside Terminal City, moving to phase two."

"I'll be in touch," White replied. "Take out 452."

"With this team? She hasn't got a chance. Tanner, out."

------------------------------------

**Location: **Terminal City, Washington. 

**Time: **3:05 AM PST

Logan was, unsurprisingly, the first to come. Joshua and Mole followed soon after. The three of them stepped out of the rain and entered Warehouse 15 one by one, each amazed by what they found inside. Warehouse 15 was the hugest of all the warehouses, and was, literally, a confusing maze of really high-stacked wooden crates. If it wasn't for Max's help, the three of them would have undoubtedly spent 15 minutes wandering aimlessly.

Logan didn't have a clue what was going on, he was still sleepy. All he knew was that Zeke had burst into his room, telling him to get to Warehouse 15, then ran off again. By the blank looks on Joshua and Mole's faces, they were both clueless as well.

Joshua peered up and saw a circular glass window at the very center of the large ceiling. The glass was dirty and littered with grime that had collected over the time. Even then, Joshua could clearly still see the rain through it.

"Where's Zeke and Dalton?" Max asked while they walked.

"Zeke said that he couldn't find Dalton for some reason, he decided to look again." He paused. "Max, what's going on?" Logan asked from behind, sounding concerned.

"We have visitors," she answered vaguely without looking back. The four of them were navigating to the center of the warehouse.

"Well are you going to give me a little hint?" he replied groggily, obviously still waking up.

"Maybe she's throwing you a surprise birthday party," Mole retorted gruffly.

"Max isn't the birthday party type," Logan replied. "And she hates surprises."

"—Surprise," a voice announced from around the corner.

Logan paused abruptly in step and flinched. He quickly observed the situation. The center of the warehouse had been turned into a makeshift meeting room, that was obvious. There were many fold out chairs and a tall garbage barrel that housed a fire. Beside a very wet and disgruntled looking Alec stood four X5's— four very familiar X5's. And immediately in front of him, stood Donald Lydecker.

Or … what was left of him, it seemed. "Yeah, surprise," Logan replied dully. "How did you get in? And … what happened to you?" Logan's mind was buzzing with questions; he tried his best to not ask them all at once.

"Through the front door," Lydecker replied, as if it was obvious. Lydecker felt the eyes on him; he acted nonchalant to it all. His face was now riddled with thick scars, healed gashes that permanently left their mark on his skin. There was an eye patch where is right eye was— or rather, where it used to be.

"Fair enough," Logan dismissed. "And question two?" Logan looked queasy, shocked, and maybe modestly concerned. He glanced briefly at the four X5's, one of them was lingering in the back, but all were dressed uniformly in black. Logan pulled his attention back to Lydecker.

"The Conclave got to him," Krit replied grimly from behind Lydecker. He had been waiting patiently to make his presence known; he hadn't seen Logan since Manticore's take down. "Good to see you again, Logan," Krit said with a nod, grinning widely despite the seriousness of the situation.

"And Syl, Zane, and—" Max pointed to each of the X5's as she called out their names but paused on the last one, "—and Brin," she finished weakly, identifying the lingering X5 in the back. Not surprisingly, Brin didn't bother to greet Logan. She stayed planted exactly where she was. There was no use denying the warmth in Max's tone as she named her siblings, she was all but beaming.

"Hey Logan," Syl greeted, her blonde hair was the same length Logan remembered it to be the last time he saw her.

He nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Hey there, Syl."

"Logan," a calm but firm voice spoke up. The brunette X5, Zane, stepped forward and extended his hand. Logan had never seen Zane— heard plenty about him— but never met the man face to face. The thing that struck Logan the most was how … harmless the other man appeared. After Logan shook his hand and felt Zane's strong grip, that impression quickly died.

"Now that we're all chummy with each other, I can finally do this. Been waiting a long time… " Mole stepped forward and unexpectedly seized Lydecker by the collar. "You've got a lot to answer for, buddy," he growled.

"Mole, what the hell are you doing?" Max demanded. She swiftly grabbed him by the elbow. The others circled around the scene.

"An anomaly," Lydecker stated matter-of-factly, examining one of his creations. He didn't seem at all bothered that his feet were off the ground.

"Right, one of many you left to rot in the basements," Mole retorted heatedly. "I've got a bone to pick with you, Lydecker."

"Hey, hey! Not right now, he needs to answer a few more questions. You can kick his ass afterwards," though of course, Max didn't really mean it.

Mole sent an appraising glance at Max. He knew he could never win a battle with her, and promptly released Lydecker to drop him on his feet. "Do anything funny, and I'll rip your arms off," he threatened darkly. He pulled out a cigar from his jacket pocket and lit it, walking away angrily to a corner of the clearing.

"Well that was … nice. Do all your soldiers behave this way?" Lydecker questioned.

"No, you just get special treatment," Max retorted resentfully. "All right, we're all here like you asked. Now talk. What's going on? What the hell are you doing here?"

Lydecker headed toward the chairs and occupied one. It took a few seconds for everyone to find their seats and get settled. Once they did, all eyes were on Lydecker. "You want to start from the beginning? Fine. A few months ago a few familiars kidnapped me, ran my truck off the road because I had stumbled on a few clues about their little plan. After escaping from the Conclave, I informed the Government of the entire situation; that is, the plague, the familiars, you, everything. They didn't believe me of course, but I didn't want to wait until millions died to prove my point. So I took action."

"I ran an ad in a few newspapers, called a few people, and tried to get in contact with any X5's I could find. Only a few answered my call, seems like I'm widely disliked by the transgenic community," he stated indifferently.

"Old news," Max scoffed.

"Go on," Logan encouraged, listening anxiously.

Lydecker's eyes darted around the faces of the X5's. Even after Manticore's takedown and all this, he felt hostility and suspicion radiating from them. It didn't bother him in the least it, he wasn't a sympathetic man by far, and he cared less of what people thought of him and his actions. Right now it was just a small hassle.

"Syl and Krit found me, they brought Zane along. Brin, well, we found her— but that's another story. I gave them the briefing, and we started on a hunt for him."

"Him?" Max inquired with a raise of the brow.

"Didn't you tell her?" Lydecker peered at Logan.

Logan fell silent; feeling the eyes on him— here came the moment of truth. He could see Alec look extremely relieved from the corner of his eye, Alec was probably glad he wasn't the one to tell Max. Joshua and Mole, wherever they were in the warehouse, were probably pleased too.

"Enough with the cryptic stuff. Out with it," Max demanded, looking from Krit, Alec, Syl, Lydecker, and finally at Logan.

"Of course you didn't, I told you not to tell her," Lydecker remembered, then turned to face Max. "I don't suppose you've kept in touch with him since then, stupid move actually, to hide him in the middle of nowhere working in a barn with a fake identity. He should've been told where he was from and what he was. Waste of his talents too—"

"_Zack_?" Max asked, disbelievingly. She felt short of breath at the mention of his name. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, it sounded louder than ever.

"Zack," Lydecker confirmed.

The X5's kept silent in the background, Lydecker seemed better qualified to break the news. Syl and Krit looked especially saddened at the mention of their brother.

"What happened to Zack? Is he okay? How does he fit into all of this? Answer me," she demanded.

"I will, calm down," Lydecker replied. "The Conclave found that doctor you worked with and got his location."

"Sam Carr?" Logan piped up from the side. "How did they find him?"

"Not sure, probably one of the nurses in the hospital. The Conclave is everywhere; you should have known that by now. They got Zack's location from him then went after Zack. Simple as that, really. We trailed White and his partner all the way to Oregon."

Max paled at the sound of White's name.

"Sam Carr wouldn't betray us like that," Logan spoke up, feeling it was his responsibility to come to the doctor's defense.

"They threatened his family, Cale," Lydecker spared a glance at the X5's— his kids. "What would you do if someone threatened your family?"

"Is his family okay?" Max interrupted before Logan could answer. She knew of Logan's family.

Lydecker shrugged. "Don't know, the poor guy didn't live long enough to find out."

They all fell silent, Logan especially. Sam Carr was a close friend and trusted associate of Eyes Only. But this was war, and he was another casualty. Casualties were expected, and Logan couldn't dwell on things he couldn't change.

"What do they want with Zack?" Max demanded.

"To kill you of course," Lydecker announced, as if it should've been obvious. "They'll either send him on a solo mission to infiltrate Terminal City and eliminate you or send him with a squad. We're not sure, we last saw him at some factory. I told the government of your role in saving possibly millions; they'll protect you for the time being, but only if you get out of here with us. We're your escort."

Max took the news just as Lydecker expected— bad. Her head jerked backwards as if she had just touched a live power cable. White and his familiars were hitting below the belt for doing this, now it was personal. "No, not a chance. We wait for him here. It's my fault he's running with the bad guys. I need to save him, he _can_ be saved we've done it before," she put in firmly, through gritted teeth.

"Zack's not our main concern, curing the plague is. Your safety's been compromised, Max, you need to leave Terminal City _now_. This is selfish and illogical, you're out of line, soldier."

"In case you haven't noticed, Manticore's dead. I don't take orders anymore, you get that?" she retorted. "Besides, think about it. I'm safer _here_, behind a military barricade and around a bunch of genetically engineered soldier friends."

"All but one," Krit spoke up gravely.

Max looked confused, and she was. She put two and two together instantly. "There's more, isn't there? Spit it out," she demanded, addressing the entire group. She knew that all of them had kept her in the dark, and felt the sting of betrayal. But right now wasn't the proper time to scold everyone who had done so. Right _now_, she had to find Zack and save him, then eventually the world. That was enough on her plate.

"We caught up with the three of them early on at a diner somewhere in Oregon. Syl put a tap on his cellphone and we heard a couple of … interesting things," Lydecker stated with a sigh. "There's a mole in Terminal City," said slowly, waiting for the information to sink in. "White's been in contact with someone here, and we don't know who it is. It could be any of the X-series. So you see," he started again, in a compromising tone, "you need to leave. You can't save Zack if you're dead."

"I can't save Zack if I can't find him. And from what you've told me, he's coming _here_. Besides, how can I even believe anything you're saying is true?"

Lydecker's X5 squad shifted in their seats, as if to draw Max's attention to them. Krit was elected as the group's speaker, and piped up. "Um, we can verify whatever he's said so far," Krit stated softly. He knew that Max wanted to win this argument and stay in Terminal City for Zack, but what he just said basically handed the victory to Lydecker. For that, he sent an apologetic look to his sister.

Max set her fingers on her temple and pressed lightly. "This is _not_ happening," she muttered to herself, unconvincingly.

"Hey, everything's going to be okay, Max," Syl assured her gently. "Just come with us, it's for the best."

"Zack's tough, he'll be fine," Krit tossed in too.

Despite their assurances, she put up one last effort to argue the inevitable. "Logan?" Max peered at him, in search of an opinion.

If she wanted a certain response from him, she would be disappointed. "You know what I think, Max," Logan replied softly. He had, of course, voted for her to go with Lydecker. Even if Zack and Logan had never truly gotten along, Logan _did_ want to save the X5, knowing how important he was to Max. But balanced against the lives of million— it was a no-brainer.

"_Alec_?" she looked to Alec, who had been uncharacteristically quiet all this time. Yeah, she was bound to lose this battle if she was desperate enough to ask for Alec's opinion.

Alec had of course been listening closely the entire time. He let his cocky façade down briefly to handle the serious situation at hand. "Hey, Brother Zack survived a bullet to the head, Manticore pulling him apart, and an electric jolt to the head. I think he'll be okay," offering her a reassuring grin.

"Those monsters corrupted one of my kids," Lydecker stated darkly. "Don't worry, they'll get what's coming," there was no mistake of the murder in his tone. "But we need to handle one problem at a time— this comes first," he stated coolly.

Honestly, Max had given into logic and made up her mind to leave Terminal City the moment Krit had stopped talking. She had just been delaying the inevitable. Even so, Lydecker's words and tone held a certain blunt sincerity that she learned to appreciate. If he was ever anything in his life— Lydecker was determined.

"When do we leave?" she asked, resigned.

Everyone looked modestly relieved.

"Right after we get clearance to leave, the government recognizes this as a priority mission," Lydecker's hand reached into his coat pocket to produce a thick black military cell phone. He tossed it over to Brin. "Brin, tell the General we need an escort to the University's lab. Tell them to prepare a team of examiners, get their best scientists over there. We need to find out what's killing these people, and what we can do to stop it."

Brin caught the cell phone, and gave him a fractional nod of her head.

"I'm coming," Logan spoke up quickly, leaving no room to argue in his voice. "Let me get my laptop before we leave, I have a translation of the runes in it. Joshua, come on."

Lydecker nodded reluctantly, letting the two make their way out the Warehouse. "But hurry up," he called out after them.

"Mole and I are going to stay here," Alec stated, knowing that she would make him stay here regardless.

"Good idea," she replied.

"You want to explain what happened when the lights shut off and how you suddenly disappeared?" Alec asked, that little bit had been bugging him the entire time.

"Not really," she retorted.

"I can explain," Krit volunteered. "I trailed her back to her apartment and … um, kidnapped her."

"That doesn't explain the thump I heard," Alec pointed out.

"Oh yeah, that was the sound of her fist making contact with my jaw," Krit replied embarrassedly, he absently rubbed the spot where she had hit him.

"You snuck up on me in the dark," Max reminded him mildly, hiding a _very_ amused grin.

"Hey, I thought I was rescuing you from danger," Krit shot back delicately, jabbing a finger at Alec.

"Me? Dangerous?" Alec asked incredulously. "You have it all backwards, bud, _I_ need protection from _her_," he stated teasingly. Alec took an involuntarily step away from Max, just in case she wanted to sneak in a punch or something.

"Either way, I didn't get a clear look at you. I thought you were Ben," Krit stated soberly, "sorry."

"Ahh, I see," Alec replied, it all made sense now. As comprehension dawned, he quickly changed the subject. Ben was not a topic anyone wanted to bring up around Max. Alec was relieved when Zane interrupted their conversation.

"You always said you wanted an X5 reunion, Max," Zane spoke up, with a smile on his face. "Surprise, surprise."

"I did," she admitted musingly. "But you brought the bearer of bad news with you, that spoils things," she gestured over to Lydecker. At that second, something occurred to her. "Hey you," she called out to him. "Not that it matters much now, but how _did_ you escape from the Conclave?"

"Yeah, you never did tell us that one," Syl spoke up.

Lydecker adjusted his patch slightly, enough for Max to see that there was nothing underneath. The torture the Familiars had submitted him to had been thoroughly horrific. But in the end, he survived. He always did.

"What?" he snapped out of his train of thought and looked up at the X5s. "Escape? Oh yeah, that," Lydecker thought back to that point in time. "The kid guard helped me out."

"Helped you out?" Max asked, in astonishment.

"Well, not exactly _helped_ me out. He was standing too close to the bars, he paid the price for it," Lydecker said dismissively.

"Knowing you were an important prisoner with information on Max, they let some _kid_ guard you? What a bunch of morons," Alec scoffed.

No one disagreed with him.

"But it worked out okay in the end, and now we're going to finally take those sick bastards out," Lydecker concluded.

"Hey Max, while you're away, do you want me to see what I can find on Zack?" Alec offered. "I mean, if … anything, that is. I can try to—" Alec paused mid-sentence and blinked, his eyes widening.

"Don't trouble yourself, 494," a familiar voice called out from behind Max. "That won't be necessary."

Everyone who wasn't already facing that direction adjusted their position quickly. Max followed suit. Slowly, disbelievingly, she turned around. It couldn't be. It _couldn't_.

But it was. There he stood, between two tall walls of wooden crates and in front of a group of four strangers she had never seen.

Zack.

Max forced herself to tear her gaze away from Zack and examine the person who had just stepped forward. Zack's squad of four parted in half like a curtain and revealed a fifth member. The traitor.

She couldn't believe her eyes— and neither could anyone else.

"_You_?"

**A/N:** Okay, so maybe I lied. _Next_ chapter contains all the juicy death and destruction. Plus, the traitor's identity.


	6. Red Dawn

**Disclaimer: **I think I've disclaimed enough.

**Rating: **This chapter alone is rated R for violence.

**Author's Note: **Boo yah, passed the driver's license test on my first try!

Anyway, I write the times of scenarios to show that some events happen at the same time but take place elsewhere. So yeah, observe the times if you can. Everything'll make more sense. I just want to state that I have a soft spot for Brin. Somebody's Dark Angel, I hope this answers your question about why a certain X6 couldn't see in the dark ...

This chapter has character death, just a forewarning.

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 6: Red Dawn

_"A good friend stabs you in the front." _

_-Oscar Wilde _

**Location: **Terminal City, Washington. Warehouse 15. 

**Time: **3:31 AM PST

_"You?" _

"Yeah, _me_," Zeke replied smugly. He didn't look at all proud for getting away with the mass deception. In fact, he avoided eye contact with everyone … everyone except Lydecker. "Hi again, nice to see those scars are healing well."

"It's … you," Lydecker's voice came, an edge of tautness to it. "You're the kid guard I took out back at the Conclave's HQ."

"Yeah, nice job choking me when I wasn't looking, asshole," Zeke bit back, absently rubbing his neck.

"Nothing personal, you understand," Lydecker replied with a quick shrug.

"Enough," Zack cut in impatiently, holding a hand up. His squad stepped forward in unison, raising their automatic rifles and taking aim. "452," he raised a finger and pointed straight at her. "For crimes against the Conclave and humanity, the penalty's death." Zack himself didn't have a rifle in hand, but an oversized flashlight they had used to navigate through Terminal City's sewers.

"The name's Max," she corrected, when she finally found her voice. The idea of Zeke's betrayal was still lingering in the back of her mind. But what's done is done, and if they wanted to live to see the sunrise, she had to think straight. "And you're Zack," she paused shortly, "my _brother_."

"Lies," Reeve cut in quickly, before Zack could develop any doubts. They were too far into their mission for mind games. The mind games had already been played, and the Conclave had won Zack over. Even so, Zack fell into a deep silence, and when he didn't reply, Reeve looked at him. "Give the command, Zack," Reeve bit out nervously, his finger hovering over the trigger.

But Zack didn't reply. His face was carved of stone as he stared at Max. He flinched when an onslaught of flashbacks unexpectedly assaulted him. He froze for a few tense seconds, then spoke. "Zeke, go seal the door and make sure the coast is clear. I don't want a flood of transgenics spilling in here," he commanded distractedly.

"Gotcha," Zeke acknowledged, sounding extremely relieved to get away from Max and Alec. Max was under the impression that Zeke regretted this entire event. Either way, the boy turned around and disappeared into the back.

Max hissed between her teeth. She had been counting on Logan or Joshua to provide some help, or at least a distraction. _There goes that idea_.

Behind Max, Alec sent a sweeping glance around the warehouse. The X5s' guns were roughly ten feet away from the closest person, Syl. Krit had a knife tucked in his jacket pocket, but any sudden movements would ensure a bullet to the forehead by either one of the Elements. Zane was right between Lydecker and Max at the front lines, making them the most watched out of everyone. And Brin … _Brin_! Brin was no where to be found. She had walked off to make the call, and hadn't returned. Alec knew she was skulking in the shadows somewhere in the warehouse and waiting to act — _finally, an advantage_. "Now where'd you go?" he muttered to himself, eyes traveling up and down the huge stacks of crates. "Come on, come on, come on," he was getting frantic. If Alec was wrong, and she had left or Zack and his squad had killed her on the way in … "Ah, yeah, _there_ you are," he spotted Brin tucked behind a pillar of crates in the far end of the warehouse. Apparently she had been trying to get his attention all this time too.

Once they made eye contact, she sent him a chain of hand commands that he acknowledged with a nod. It was a good plan, an _excellent_ plan in fact, considering the rotten odds everyone had right now and the tough position they were all stuck in. All Alec had to do was relay the message to everyone else so they would know when to move.

With Max, Lydecker, and Zane in front of him, Alec had a nice improvised shield to block him from the enemy's field of vision. Syl and Krit were standing off to the side, farther away, but visible to Alec. Alec had to think, and think _fast_. This would be no problem, this was what Alec was best at. Fast thinking.

He threw a quick glance around him, and spotted the vacant fold-up chairs. It would have to do. His fingers traveled to the empty chair beside him, and he began tapping loudly, in Morse code.

_Lights. Out. In. 2. Minutes. V. Nod._

_Lights. Out. In. 2. Minutes. V. Nod. _

Alec kept tapping the chair until he received the nods he asked for. One by one, the X5's, with their backs to him, gave a fractional dip of the head in acknowledgement. Alec suppressed a smile. Lydecker had seemed to miss the message completely; he was immersed with handling Zack and his squad. And Max … well, Alec didn't know if Max got the message or not. Time would tell.

Alec then sat back in his chair, satisfied, but looking nonchalant. He had done all he could at this point. The rest was up to Brin. Max, Lydecker, Reeve, and Zack had been talking for some time now. Alec decided to tune into the current conversation as he waited.

"—Reeve, huh? I take it you're Robin. So where's Batman?" Max inquired, with a large amount of bitterness in her tone. There was no doubt in her mind that White was involved. _That son of a bitch always is._

"Not that it matters, but he's waiting outside for us to carry you out in a body bag," Reeve boasted, confirming her suspicions at the same time. "_Zack_?" he called out again, in a stronger, questioning tone.

"Ahh," he whispered, pressing a finger to his temple. Zack's head was pounding like a drum, seeing the X5s had triggered scattered memories. Zack's expression softened, and for a fleeting moment, hope rose inside of Max. "Tinga," he declared awkwardly. "I remember the name. Who was she?"

_Fight it, Zack. Fight it_. _Remember_. "Our sister, Zack. Remember Tinga? One of our sisters," she encouraged him on. "And there's Syl over there. Remember Brin, Jondy, Krit, and everyone else? That was our family, and you were our big brother."

"Max?" he asked, in a confused child-like tone.

Max saw one of the teens, a very pale boy; shift his aim from Lydecker to the back of Zack's head. Apparently, they had prepared for something like this. The rest of the squad, a muscled boy and a thin girl stood awkwardly with their rifles held. The two of them didn't look like they wanted to be here, they resembled two kids playing soldier. But if they came along with Zack on what seemed like a central mission, then Max didn't doubt they were deadly.

"That's right, Zack," she invited quietly. "We're family. Here's Zane and … Ben," she lied, taking a gamble.

Zack's previous innocent expression turned from questioning to violently turbulent. "_Ben_?"

"Stop playing with his mind! That's 494, not 493," Reeve bellowed, his expression changed from complacent to furious. She had lost her gamble. "Zack, give the order!" he demanded. It was as if this Reeve person, Max observed, held a certain amount of hate, love, and respect all in one for Zack. Obviously their friendship, however tight it was, wasn't enough to override the mission's objective.

Zeke slipped back and regained his position beside his squad. He gave the all-clear sign to them.

Max's heart sank. Either Zeke had killed Logan and Joshua, or they wouldn't get here in time. Both scenarios meant bad news.

At the sound of Reeve's voice, Zack's head jerked back as if he had just been hit across the face. He shook his head and restored his stoic expression once more. "Right," he said dully, reminded of the goal. "This needs to end."

_Where the hell is Brin?_ Alec cursed silently. It had been well over two minutes.

"—No wait," Syl interrupted quickly, before Zack could give the signal to fire. "We're your family, Zack! They're not. You helped us escape Manticore; you gave us our freedom and watched over everyone. Come back to us," Syl said softly. She didn't seem convinced of her words, Alec noted. No, underneath that phony sincerity, Alec could hear the resignation in her tone. Syl knew her brother was long gone— she was only buying time.

_Brin!_ Alec yelled mentally, to no avail. If only the X5s had telekinetic powers. If Brin didn't come through …

"… No," Zack whispered in response. "Maybe … maybe in another life we were," he said remorsefully, with a pained look on his face. In a sweeping motion, he turned his back to Lydecker and the X5s to glance at his squad.

"Think of what you're doing, son," Lydecker's voice cut in, his tone frantic. "You're making a big mistake."

But it was too late; Zack easily ignored the man's words. "Do it," he murmured to Reeve and the Elements. Reeve didn't need to be told twice. Easily the best shooter of the group, he took aim.

Bullets spilled forward at Max, and a body hit the floor.

------------------------------------

**Location: **Terminal City, Washington. Warehouse 15. 

**Time: **3:31 AM PST

Brin had long clicked Lydecker's cell phone off and slipped it into her pocket. She was occupied watching the current scene unfolding. X5-599. _Zack! You're okay … or, not_. The dialogue taking place was not to her liking. It wasn't long before she realized she was her siblings' only hope at this point. Brin tucked herself in a pocket between two crates and waited patiently, all the while, thinking frantically of a plan. She had an idea, but needed to get someone's attention first. Or maybe, one of them would be smart enough to look for her.

With butterflies in her stomach, she waited patiently until … 494— Alec, she mentally corrected herself— spotted her. She waved to him once, then extended her right hand forward and produced certain hand signals. These were all Manticore trained skills, years of lectures drilled permanently into her mind.Her hand signals were rusty, but she got the message across:

_Lights. Out. In. 2. Minutes._

Alec nodded in acknowledgement and quickly turned around to face forward. How he would relay the message to the others was his responsibility, Brin had hers.

She disappeared into the dark and navigated through the maze of crates. The power box had to be around here somewhere; many lives depended on it. But if by a stroke of bad luck, it was on the other side of the warehouse … but no, it thankfully wasn't. Brin released a heavy sigh she wasn't aware she bad been holding. The power box was nailed to the wall, underneath a dusty window panel revealing the stormy weather outside. Rain was pouring harder than before, she observed. The metal cover of the power box was rusted and dangling from its hinges. Brin wouldn't risk pulling it off and creating loud noises. She settled for sweeping it out of the way and working on the wires that way. There was one, five-inch thick wire protruding from the bottom of the box and into the ground. That was the main cable, Brin guessed. The little wires distributed the power to certain lights in the warehouse. "Great," she mumbled, faintly discouraged. It wasn't that she didn't know how to kill the power; it was that she didn't know how to accomplish that without frying herself in the process.

At that moment, there was a tapping sound above her. Brin's attention snapped to the window. She instinctively reached for her gun, but realized it was still back with the other X5s. _Damn_. To her relief, it was … the Wolfman everyone called Joshua, and, Logan. Brin didn't hesitate; she quickly moved towards the window panel and looked for a way to open it entirely. To her dismay, she discovered that it only swung out partially.

"I'm guessing you're one of the good guys," Logan commented through the small window opening, completely drenched, and blowing water out his mouth as he spoke.

"Obviously," she retorted. "Zack's back, and he has some death squad with him. Zeke's the mole."

"I figured as much," Logan replied darkly. "It's why I came around the back, I was on my way here and saw Zeke locking the warehouse door."

"… And if Max was in control of things, she wouldn't have given that order knowing you were out getting your laptop," Brin finished for him.

Logan nodded.

"Smart. Listen, I'm pressed for time here. Any ideas how to get this window out of the way without alerting everyone? That, and how to kill the lights without eating 10,000 volts of electricity?"

"One problem at a time," Logan commented, examining the window pane. "Back up, Brin. Joshua," he called out.

She didn't have time to question him, and complied.

She saw Joshua cracking his knuckles from the other side. "Little fella in trouble," he mumbled repeatedly, and fixed his fingers on the window pane. This was a delicate job, but if he put enough pressure at the right points, he could break the screws holding the window in place without crushing the glass. He got ready and—

The sound of gunshots pierced the previously silent atmosphere.

"Forget that, trash it," Brin ordered hurriedly.

Joshua didn't need to be told twice. Logan reflexively took a step back and watched as Joshua shot his fists into the window and broke through it cleanly. "Logan, first," Joshua grunted, leaving no room for argument. Before Logan could agree, he felt his legs leave the ground as Joshua lifted him. Brin caught Logan by the shoulders from the other side and set him down beside the power box.

"They need me back there. You work the lights, got it?"

"Got it. Here, take this," Logan's hand slipped into his back pocket and extracted a black silencer. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Brin took the gun and cocked it. She removed a mid-sized dagger from her boot—a standard weapon the X5s regularly carried— and extended it to him in exchange. "And you take this."

Logan took the knife and nodded. "Joshua, go with her."

Joshua had just finished getting into the warehouse and set himself down on the floor. He shook his head a bit to clear the water from it. "Gotcha," he replied in agreement. "Let's go."

"Wait, what's that?" Logan inquired, pointing at a sleek, black, rod protruding from Brin's back pocket.

"It's a shock stick." When he flashed her a confused look, she continued explaining. "A type of taser? Except it's strong enough to knock an elephant out."

"Give it to me, I might be able to use it."

"If you say so," she pulled it out and threw it at him.

Logan snatched it out of the air and nodded. "Get out of here."

Brin nodded, and the two quickly retreated back to the where the action was.

"Good luck, you guys," Logan called out apprehensively after them. "You'll need it."

He then set off to work.

------------------------------------

**Location: **Terminal City, Washington. Warehouse 15. 

**Time: **3:45 AM PST

With the notion that Brin had failed them, the X5's burst into action. They couldn't afford to wait for her anymore— they had to act now. Zane dashed forward under the assumption that Max could take care of herself and would jump out of the way of the bullets. Syl and Krit rushed towards their weapons and snatched them up, dodging bullets as they did so. When Zane moved, Alec had a clear field of vision. He grabbed two of the fold-up chairs behind him and tossed them forward at Rianne and Davis. Then, sprung to his feet and dashed forward to follow Zane.

Max, meanwhile, hadn't move. She was cemented in place. It hadn't occurred to her that Zack might seriously give the order to kill her. Lydecker predicted her reaction, and had, without hesitation, tossed himself on her the second the bullets left Reeve's rifle. His body dropped like a rock after the bullets lodged themselves firmly in his skin. Max snapped to attention, cursing herself for losing focus in the first place. She glanced, with sympathy at Lydecker.

"Go," he said coarsely. "I'll be fine."

She didn't need to be told twice. Lydecker was a tough guy, he'd survive. First thing's first. She rolled to the side away from him and reached for a chair to use as a shield. She jumped to her feet, and dashed forward at a furious speed, throwing the chair forward.

For the most part, at the very beginning, the X5s and Elements matched up evenly. Alec had a bone to pick with Zeke, someone he had thought was his friend. Syl and Rianne, oddly enough, paired up squarely too. Rianne's aim was terrible, but her levitation powers made up for whatever she lacked. Syl's speed and aim was excellent, and the two engaged in their own private fight. Krit took after Seth, Zane after Davis, and Max … well, Max was left with Zack.

Things turned very bad very quickly.

For every four punches Zane got in, Davis only returned with one. The difference in speed didn't help Zane much in the end. Davis didn't seem at all fazed by Zane's punches; his muscled build appeared to absorb it all effortlessly. When Zane paused his onslaught for a second, Davis landed an elbow into the X5's nose, blood spurting forward. Zane blurred and sent an assortment of kicks, but once again, to no avail. It took a while, but Davis finally caught Zane by the neck, and lifted him up. "This is only going to hurt for a moment," Davis declared honestly.

Over to the right, Syl had hit the ground roughly; sweat pouring down her bruised face. Rianne slammed her heel on the X5's chest and then drew her rifle and aimed it at her face. "Really sorry about this," she apologized meekly.

Krit was losing his battle with Seth — badly. The only two who seemed to be getting by fine were Max and Alec, but even Alec was resorting to desperate moves like feigning retreat and throwing chairs at the approaching Zeke.

By fortune, Reeve was left to himself. He cursed the old man for getting in the way, but inserted another magazine into his rifle nevertheless. Everything seemed to be under control and this mission would end in an eventual and thorough slaughter.

"Pity, I thought this was going to be more interesting." He lifted his gun up aimed at Max, who was too busy parrying Zack's punches to notice him. Reeve was one of the best gunslingers the Conclave had. And this time, he wouldn't miss.

"Way too easy," he muttered, aligning his eye with the gun's scope.

It took Reeve a second to realize he had lost his balance, and another second to realize who it was that had knocked him off his feet. He looked up and spotted a glowering Asian woman. By the power behind her hit, Reeve deduced she was another X5. _Damn, didn't count on this._ He saw a wolf-dog-man-_thing­ _run past him to join the scattered fights. There was no time to worry about the others, Reeve had to deal with the immediate threat, and that was the new X5.

He kicked at her, not to knock her down, but to put distance between the two. He accomplished this, and with a heave, jumped to his feet and cracked his knuckles. He wasn't much of a hand-to-hand fighter, but generations of refined breeding gave him a few advantages. Reeve ran an eye up and down Brin. _Nothing too scary,_ he thought.

"Where'd you come from, little girl?" he asked mockingly.

"Hell," Brin replied curtly, blurring and landing a solid punch to Reeve's face.

"Shit," he cursed, staggering backwards and holding his cheek. _That'll leave a bruise._

"Okay … _now_ it's a fight," he muttered.

------------------------------------

**Location:** Terminal City, Washington. Warehouse 15. 

**Time: **3:45 AM PST

"Cutting the power? No problem," Logan declared to himself, setting the knife down briefly to squeeze some water out of his shirt. He reached out to touch the cables but suddenly retracted his hands. "Can't do that, Cale, unless you want to eat 10,000 volts," he muttered, looking for a towel to dry his hands. Of course there wasn't one around, so he went with the next best thing— the dust covering the floor of the old warehouse. He patted his hands down on the dirt to soak up most of the water. Then, threw a significant glance over at the net of wires. "Red … black … yellow," this wasn't Logan's department of expertise. Color-coded wires were something he was only modestly familiar with. He was well aware that cutting the wrong wire could result in a very excruciating and messy death. "Black's the ground wire," he murmured, reviewing information he learned ages ago. "And red is … a live wire, so yellow's a router?" He was tentative about the last two.

Logan went back and forth between the colors in contemplation. It wasn't until he heard another round of gunshots that he quickly picked the black wire and sliced it cleanly through. He squinted and tensed his muscles as if he was expecting a pillar of electricity to fry him. Luckily, it didn't come. Instantly, the lights flickered, and finally shut down. The warehouse was pitch black; Logan couldn't even see his hands clearly. The only light came from the warehouse's large ceiling window, but provided hardly anything at this time of morning.

"Nothing to it," he stated, immensely relieved. Logan removed the shock stick from his back pocket and flicked it on; the tip of the stick came to life and crackled violently with blue electricity. It wasn't much, but it was enough light for him to navigate through the maze of boxes. He was careful not to tap the tip of the stick against anything, as Brin said; _it's enough to knock an elephant _out. Logan did a quick maintenance check on his exoskeleton. Once done, he hurried back to where the others were, praying that he wasn't too late.

------------------------------------

**Location: **Terminal City, Washington. Warehouse 15. 

**Time: **4:30 AM PST

When the lights turned off, it ended as quickly as it started.

Joshua had thankfully came to the rescue, Zane's rescue in particular. Davis proved to be the most difficult to subdue. The two of them couldn't beat Davis without the help of weapons; luckily Syl provided them with handguns once she handled Rianne. It was still early in the morning, the sun hadn't rose, and the veil of darkness was still present.

"Report!" Max shouted in the dark. She used her sleeve to swipe the rolling sweat off her forehead and surveyed the area carefully.

"Clear," Alec gave her a thumbs-up and kept his boot firmly pinned to Zeke's neck. Every muscle of his body was aching thanks to Zeke, and Alec had a few new cuts and bruises to show for. Zeke could have thrown Alec's leg off and continued fighting, but he looked exhausted of energy and motivation. Besides, the rest of his team was out of commission, it would've been stupid and suicidal. The boy simply stared up at the ceiling of the warehouse and lay on the floor silently. In all honesty, Alec had been fighting a losing battle. That is, unless the lights shut off.

One enormous advantage came in the form of night vision. X5s could see in the dark. Elements could not.

Alec noticed tears welling up in Zeke's eyes, even if he pretended not to look at the traitor. He eased his boot off slightly.

"Clear!" Syl called out, her hair messy and her appearance disheveled. She was standing over an unconscious Rianne and a broken AK-47. "Next time, learn to aim," she bit out, not that Rianne could hear a word she was saying. Syl kicked one half of the AK-47 away and checked herself for injuries.

"Clear," Joshua grunted, holding a bloodied and broken Zane up. The X5 looked barely awake and was fighting a losing battle to stay conscious. Zane's forehead was soaked in crimson, and his shirt was thoroughly shredded. "X5's hurt badly," Joshua stated gruffly, stepping over Davis' large— and very _dead_— body. It took some effort on Joshua's and Zane's part, but finally, twelve shots to the skull put the Element permanently to rest.

"Zane!" Max called out, rushing to Joshua's side.

"I've got it, don't worry," Syl assured, brushing stray strands of hair out of the way. "Field Med was always my thing."

"Then you're in charge of injuries," Max decided, before walking away.

"Sure thing," Syl acknowledged.

"Maybe you can help me with this," Krit called out as he limped towards Syl, Joshua, and Zane.

"What happened to you?" Syl asked, running a critical eye over him.

"Dislocated arm and shoulder," Brin cut in, before Krit could reply. For the most part, Brin seemed unscathed. She had joined late in the battle, and the element of surprise had worked considerably to her advantage. "It could have been worse, lucky I was there."

"Don't hog all the credit," Krit stated dryly. "Hey, I wore him down," he protested, 'him' being Seth.

"Of _course_ you did," Brin dismissed, arching an eyebrow.

"Is he dead?" Syl asked, nodding over to Seth's fallen body.

"Just knocked out. Pretty tough for a kid who looks like he's barely hit puberty," Krit noted scornfully. "You mind, Brin?" he asked, gesturing to his wounded arm.

"Not at all," she replaced her gun in its holster and firmly set both her hands on certain parts of Krit's arm. "This isn't going to feel good," she said, stating the obvious. In one quick movement, she jerked Krit's arm back into his elbow socket with a satisfying _crack_.

"_Ahh_, yeah, that didn't feel good," Krit growled.

Brin moved her hands up his arm and rested them on his shoulder. She popped his shoulder back into place using the same method as before.

"Neither did that," Krit stated, wincing noticeably. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Brin responded nonchalantly.

"You'll need a splint," Syl stated in a commanding tone. "Joshua and I are relocating Zane to another warehouse. He's in bad shape. You two might as well come," she offered.

"I'll stay here with them," Brin spoke up. "They might need help," Brin motioned over to Max, Alec, and Logan.

"Fair enough," Krit replied.

Syl nodded and led Krit, Zane, and Joshua quickly out of the warehouse.

Meanwhile, Logan was busy tending to Zack, who lay unconscious in a massive pool of mixed blood. Logan switched the shock stick off and discarded it to the side. Max appeared by his side.

"How is he?" she questioned, fearing the worst.

"Just unconscious," Logan stated to her relief. "The _good_ part," and he used that word tentatively, "is that his memory's wiped clean again. He won't remember any of the poison the Conclave fed him."

Max blinked, feeling the fatigue lingering in her sore limbs but ignoring it altogether. "What'd you do?"

"Remember when you and him were going at it? Well he stepped in this pool of blood and I stuck the shock stick into puddle. The results were … interesting, as expected," Logan bit his lip in the dark before coming to a slow stand.

"All of that is _his_ blood?" Max's eyes widened. Even if Logan couldn't see in the dark, he sensed her shock.

"No," Logan stated gravely. "Most of it belongs to … _him_," he gestured over in the general direction of a lone body. It was away from everyone else and a trail of blood led to another large pool of crimson— Lydecker's body.

Max frowned, the skin on the back of her neck tingling. _Dead. _She swallowed hard, her expression carved of stone. There was nothing she could say on the matter that would lessen the shock. "You okay?" she stated distractedly, examining him warily.

"Okay enough," dismissing the question with a shrug. "You?"

"I'm always all right," Max stated, echoing Alec's words. "Can you get Zack over to VII by yourself?"

"Of course," he assured. Logan paused to study the expression on Max's face. "It could've been worse," he said, as if he could read her mind.

"It could have been better," she retorted, too coldly. She realized the statement came out harsher than intended and shook her head apologetically. "You better get going, Syl's taking Zane, Krit and Joshua to VII. The medics there will handle Zack too."

"Right," he responded, worry still lingering in the back of his mind. "Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

"I'm a tough girl, I'll be fine," she stated, clutching her side.

Zack was, by no means, a small man. It took some effort on Logan's part to lift him up. Luckily he had the help of his exoskeleton, the trip to warehouse 7 wasn't as difficult as it could've been.

Max watched Logan's retreating figure for a moment, then snapped back to attention when Brin addressed her.

"What do we do with them?" Brin's voice cut in, gesturing to Rianne's and Seth's unconscious bodies, then to a very much awake but resigned Zeke who was still pinned by Alec. "Three POWs," she reported.

"We're not at war," Max pointed out defiantly, fighting a loud buzz in her head. Her body was hurting everywhere.

"Are you sure about that?" Brin countered.

Max didn't have a response to that. She instead fell silent and observed the two dead bodies, Davis' and Lydecker's. "Bury both the dead bodies behind the warehouse," she continued smoothly. "Then we'll contact—"

"—Three, you mean," Brin corrected.

Max paused mid-sentence and glanced at the other woman. "What?"

"_Three_ dead bodies," she repeated. "You forgot that one," Brin nodded towards one last body that Max had missed.

It was Reeve's.

From where Max was standing, she could see a bullet hole drilled in the man's forehead. And from the awkward position he was laying on the ground, Max realized a few bones were broken. Sights like that would be incredibly disturbing to a regular person. But Max was far from ordinary.

"A little thorough. This your doing?" she questioned Brin.

"I just wanted to make sure he wouldn't get up again," she conceded, referring to the bullet hole. "He wasn't much of a fighter, I'll tell you that."

"But his aim was fine …" Max said grimly, her breathing suddenly becoming stagnant.

It was just then that Brin realized the wet stains on Max's shirt weren't sweat— it was blood. "You're hit," she stated matter-of-factly. "Where?" Brin instinctively moved to Max's side and grasped her by the elbow.

"I'm fine," Max assured. "They just … grazed my shoulder," she said slowly, her vision wavering.

It all happened so fast. She lost her balance and felt the ground approach rapidly. Something stopped her midway to prevent her from meeting the floor. She blinked; but even as her oxygen-starved brain tried to figure it out, there was an ear-popping rush of hair as she was swept off her feet and rushed out of the warehouse. Before she knew it, she was dropped on something soft in a room full of strange voices.

"I've got her!" a voice shouted uncomfortably loud in her ear.

"She's been hit. Get Syl down here, fast," another voice said.

"Already here," a third voice came in from Max's other side. "Who do you think you are, Supergirl?" the voice questioned soothingly.

Max lacked the energy to formulate a suitable response.

There was a tingle of something in her arm … and she was out.

------------------------------------

**Location: **Terminal City, Washington. Warehouse 7. 

**Time: **6:15 AM PST

She came to slowly, or at least slowly for an X5. For a moment she remained laying quietly, her eyes closed, as she assessed the situation and her own physical condition. Her right chest and arm felt vaguely numb, and her head felt hollow like it always did after doses of anesthesia. But aside from that she felt reasonably fine. From the soft sound of breathing she could tell she wasn't alone; from the lack of loud background rainwater it seemed that the rain had finally ceased.

She was lying on one of the ten beds in Terminal City's … medical warehouse? A few beds down, she spotted a sleeping Zane and Zack, both wrapped in bandages. Seated across her in a vacant bed, staring meditatively off into the horizon, was Logan.

"I'm guessing everything's under control?" Max asked.

Logan jerked slightly, his gaze coming back to her. He had long changed into dry clothes; his hands were fitted with brand new gloves. "Yeah, everything's quiet now," he said. "You should've told me you were shot," if Max expected a lecture, she would be disappointed. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad," she said, moving her right arm experimentally. Aside from some stiffness and the numbness she'd already noted, it didn't seem to bad, at least as long as she didn't try to move it too far in any direction. "Arm needs a little more work."

"Yes. Syl says you'll need at least a few days off," Logan said skeptically. As if Max would ever agree to a vacation. "Krit's okay, he'll be 100% in a few days too. Zane took a few hard hits to the head, he also has some broken ribs that need time to heal. He'll be out of commission, but he'll be all right. And Zack, well … he hasn't woken up yet. We'll deal with him when the time comes."

"Where exactly are we?" she said, realizing she didn't know the answer to that question.

"Warehouse 7," Logan replied. "You don't recognize it because we got rid of a few tables and added beds."

"They all look the same to me," Max quipped. "And warehouse fifteen?"

"Joshua and Brin buried the bodies already, just the two Familiars. Lydecker's still where we left him. We assigned a few people to clean everything else up."

Max fell silent, dread swirling violently through her. For all his faults, Lydecker redeemed himself the moment he sacrificed himself to save one of his kids. She should have moved when Reeve drew his gun, and regretted that she hadn't. It was a critical error on her part. Max's expression turned from confused to disgust. The disgust was directed at herself.

Logan took note of this change and locked eyes with her. Odd, he thought, that he'd forgotten just how brilliant a hazel those eyes were. "It's not your fault," he injected delicately into the silence. "It was his choice to do what he did."

"He wouldn't have needed to do what he did if I had moved. I didn't think Zack would give the order. When he was still with British Eddy, he couldn't kill me. I just thought that …"

"Yeah, I know," Logan replied gently. "But now that Zack's gone. We've got another clean slate to work with."

"I don't want to keep doing this to him," she replied, anger bubbling up.

"What's the alternative? Stash him away at some farm again? He deserves to know what he is. What he does from there is his choice. You can't make that decision for him."

Max shook Lydecker's death and Zack out of her mind for a moment. _One at a time._ Just then, something occurred to her. "What about Zeke and those other two?"

"You mean Rianne and Seth?" Logan asked.

Max registered their names in her mind and nodded.

"Warehouse 5 is playing host to them. Alec wanted to interrogate them, but we figured we should wait until you came around."

"I hope you're watching them closely."

"Very closely," Logan assured her. "They're good, but they're not invincible."

"What now?" Max wondered, not realizing she had voiced the question out loud.

"Lydecker was our only lead out of this mess. We're back to step one on this plague thing without him, but now that we have three Familiars with us …"

Logan didn't need to finish that sentence. "—Let's go then," she interrupted abruptly. Max swung her legs over the side of the medic bed and came to a slow stand.

"They'll be hard to budge," Logan warned, helping her up. "A headstrong group of genetically superior teenage soldiers. Sound familiar?"

"Very," Max smiled wryly. "Give me five minutes to get changed … and we'll go have a little chat with them."

**Author's Note: **Poor Lydecker. I really liked him too.


	7. Man of Conviction

**Author's Note: **Yay, I got this chapter out quick. It was fun and easy to write.

As for Zeke's barcode, I always thought readers would assume his hair covers it. That's how I thought Alec got away with it in Season II. When Josh and Mole picked up Gem and Dalton, they never asked to see their barcodes. So yeah, it wasn't a big deal to me.

M/L shipper stuff is kept to a minimum for now; I'm focused more on plot progression. Thanks to the people at FOX, to my knowledge, there's no way to work around the virus. But at the end of the story, that evil evil virus will burn. To the reviewer who asked if I would become a M/A writer and "come to the dark side," my answer is … maybe, heh heh. I love your comment, made me smile. =)

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 7: Man of Conviction

**Location: **Terminal City, Washington. Warehouse 5.

**Time: **6:35 AM PST

Zeke took in the room in a glance as he stepped through the doorway. It was long and narrow, stretching perhaps fifty meters back from the door but no more than five meters wide. Near the far wall was a solid-looking chair, facing away from her. Five meters beyond that, right at the room's back wall, were six more of the identical X7's he saw outside, with rifles held to their chests in an attentive position.

But even as his glance took in those details, his main attention was caught by the woman in the center of the group, seated in a duplicate of the empty chair facing him a few meters away. She looked pissed off, understandably.

"Hi, Max," he said weakly.

"Sit down," she demanded, eyeing him cautiously.

"Gotcha." He made it the rest of the way to the chair and sank carefully into it. "You don't need to look so worried, I don't have any intention to hurt anyone."

"Of course not," Max said, hearing the bitterness in her voice. "Just like you had no intention of hurting me and mine at warehouse fifteen."

Zeke's lip twitched. "Just following orders. I was being a good soldier, you of all people should understand."

"That makes me feel so much better," Max growled.

"Now what?" Zeke questioned, hurrying past that unpleasant memory.

Through her irritation, Max seemed mildly surprised. "We talk of course. Actually, I'm going to ask the questions. And you're going to give me straight answers."

"Can't help you there," he replied, too quickly.

"Excuse me?" she of course expected resistance; it was just a matter of handling it correctly.

"The Conclave swears everyone to secrecy, breaking that rule results in some horrifyingly painful death, I bet. Besides, I'm a junior soldier, I don't know anything."

"Zeke, you _do_ realize that if you don't tell me what I need to know, you're going to die a painful death _anyway_?" she countered. It was a bluff … or was it?

On cue, two of the X7's shifted in place, as if to make their presence known.

Zeke eyed them tiredly then looked back to Max. "How's your brother doing?" he asked suddenly, catching Max off guard.

Max flinched in the slightest bit, then recovered. "The one who almost had his body snapped in half or the one who was going to be beheaded by that pale friend of yours?"

"The one who lost his memory for the umpteenth time," Zeke replied, without any of the sarcasm she threw at him.

"He's still alive," she said through gritted teeth, reminded of Zack's chaotic situation. "Tell me about the Prophecy."

"Your friends killed my brother, you know," he snarled, ignoring her and letting a repressed anger bubble up.

Max swallowed— now _that_, she hadn't expected at all. "Yeah? More than one person died today," she retorted, the words sounding distant and mechanical through the pounding of blood in her ears. But despite everything, sympathy nagged at her. "… Which one was he?" Max knew there were two people— the shooter Brin handled, or the big guy Joshua and Zane killed.

"Davis was a nice guy, you know," he continued, as if she hadn't said anything at all. "Really gentle, had a big heart. He liked mountains and snow a lot even though I can't stand the cold. They train us to the ground, you know. They keep us at this god-forsaken factory and make us kill a few losers they pick off the streets," there was no denying the resentment in his tone, "but they promised we would get to go on a trip after we finished our mission. They promised us a lot, actually."

The one Joshua and Zane took down, Max noted. "Your mission?" Max questioned, easing him to continue.

"To kill you," Zeke replied bleakly.

Max foresaw that response. "You two don't look related," she pointed out, purposely ignoring more important topics. If she could keep this going, she could probably extract the information she needed without beating anyone up. It was surely the better way to go— albeit slower— but Logan _did_ say not to break any of Zeke's bones …

"Yeah? Well I wouldn't be talking, just look at _you_ and _your_ siblings," he retorted.

"Fair enough."

"Anyway, Davis and I had different mothers," he answered. "We're in a special breeding line, Rianne too. Do you have a lighter I can borrow?"

"I didn't know you smoked," she calmly replied. "What do you need it for?

"To show you something," he said vaguely.

Max paused to observe him for a few heartbeats, then looked at the closest X7 to her and nodded to him. The X7 nodded in return, and without saying a word, exited the room. "It's coming. Keep talking."

"The Conclave can enhance certain traits of a person and create completely new ones by breeding people with certain genes together."

"Tell me about the Prophecy," Max insisted, sounding a little hurried.

"Prophecy?" He paused to think, then grinned. "What, you mean that weird worded graffiti Sandeman scribbled all over your skin? That guy always loved riddles."

"That's the one," she confirmed smoothly. Max realized by now that Zeke didn't intend to be offensive half the time, that's just the way he talked. Max swiveled around to face one of the X7's. One of them dropped a manila folder into her outstretched hand. She opened the folder and pulled out a few photographs of the runes, they were extended forward to Zeke. "What does it mean?"

Zeke didn't move a muscle. "A lot of people are going to croak."

"I don't have time for your smart ass comments," she retorted.

"Who said I was being a smart ass?" he countered coldly.

"Zeke," she started again, gathering as much patience as she could muster, "we're talking about the lives of billions of people here. This isn't some game. Now I'm going to ask you again … and this time, you're _going_ to give me answer," her voice had an edge of a real threat to it.

"What does it say again? Read me the whole thing."

Max didn't need to bother shuffling through the papers, she knew it by heart, "_When the shroud of death covers the face of the earth, the one whose power is hidden will deliver the helpless. The guardian of life's betrayal will return the meek to their mother. From dust they came, to dust they will return._ And … that's all it says._" _

Zeke listened in to every word, then nodded when she finished. "I got it," he snapped his fingers. "Water," he piped up enthusiastically. "That's the method the Conclave's choosing to bring the Coming. Hm, that would explain the dam—"

Max heard it, but she didn't believe it. "—Run that by me again, and add a few adjectives and nouns while you're at it."

"Wa … ter," he repeated, a little slower. "'Guardian of life' is water, 'mother' is God and 'dust' is earth. Wow, that's pretty smart. I'd have never thought of that," he said brightly, as if massive genocide was something to applaud. "I'm normally really bad with riddles."

She felt her blood freeze and her mouth go dry. _Water?_ Max struggled to sort her thoughts and emotions, various things assailing her all at once. It was so simple that she wondered how she missed it in the first place. _Guardian of life? _Water, of course, how had they missed that? Poison the world's water supply? That was impossible … wasn't it? She gripped the side of her chair and stared straight at Zeke. "How are they doing it, Zeke?" she demanded.

"Probably through Attila XXIII," he said, tapping his chin in thought.

"Stop speaking in code," she said with annoyance. "Who's Attila?"

"Attila XXIII's an anaconda, she makes the longest snake in the world look like a pencil, heh heh," Zeke observed Max's glare and continued, "we breed special anacondas for their blood and venom, together, they have nasty special effects you know …" Zeke shivered as he thought back to his initiation, when the ceremonial dagger pierced his skin and injected the venom into his bloodstream. He had recovered much quicker than other kids, and for that, he was grateful. He had heard of those who were less fortunate, stories of children who screamed to their death within the first hour.

"Snakes are sacred to us, especially the ones we breed. Their venom has this awesome effect on people if it gets into blood. I think water's a catalyst. Regulars are the most vulnerable. Their temperature burns up and their body decays and shuts down in a few hours, instant death," despite the morbid subject he was speaking about, Zeke seemed wide-eyed fascinated. At another time, it would've been considered amusing. But not right now. "Every generation we breed produces a larger snake. It's really cool actually, I've never seen Attila XIII but I heard Attila XXII was forty …"

Max tuned out to Zeke's voice when he began rambling about the length of snakes. Instead, she thought back to the time where she found Ray in the middle of some ritual. She remembered the snake, the dagger, the blood, everything. Then a flashback hit her of a conversation she had with CJ— White's brother:

_ "They locked me up because of my dad. He was part of it all until he got out. Turned his back on the whole damn thing."_

_ "Why'd he leave the breeding cult, CJ?"_

_ "Because... he knew I wouldn't survive, and he didn't want me to die."_

_ "You mean the whole initiation thing with the snake blood?"_

_ "How did you know about that?"_

_ "Never mind. How did he know you wouldn't survive?"_

_ "He was a scientist. This place was his. He tested my DNA. That's not allowed, see. 'Everyone has to be initiated,' they said. 'Thousands of years of tradition,' they said. But he said 'Screw tradition,' and sent me away."_

"They've poisoned the water …" she muttered, dread swelling up in the pit of her stomach.

"… and I heard Attila II was—what?" Zeke cut off mid-sentence. "Yeah, it only takes a few drops of Attila's blood to pollute the water. The Conclave breaks down into five Hives— representing North America, South America, Asia, Africa, and Europe. Australia's a part of the Asian Hive. Then it breaks down into various sectors within those continents, so it makes targeting the source difficult. Pretty smart, those Familiars. The bacteria works like cancer, it spreads and pollutes anything it touches. Just a matter of time now before everyone in the world goes kaput. _I'm_ not going to die of course, we're all immune. But … I feel really bad for everyone else; it must really suck for them. People can't live without water, and now … they can't live with it. Sorta ironic isn't it?"

"Yeah," she replied flatly. Max saw the irony, but she wasn't in the mood to be entertained by something like that. "How do we stop it? Do you know?" it was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

"Nope. That's top secret stuff. This is exactly why they don't tell us," Zeke threw a quick glance around his surroundings. "If any one of us got caught, we wouldn't compromise thousands of years of planning. Only high ranking members are told, I mean, the Conclave's not _stupid_—"

"—We're wasting time. Sandeman will know what to do, Joshua says he's one of the good guys," Max cut in hurriedly. "Where is he? Do you know? We need to talk to him, no one else knows about this better than him."

"Um, yeah, I know where he is …" Zeke said, his voice hinting of something more.

"Where is he, Zeke? We've got to talk to him," she snapped to attention, staring directly at him.

"Yeah, uh, see, that's going to be a problem." He was stalling. And she knew it.

"Tell me," she urged.

"Well which _part_ of him do you want to find, Max?" he shot back defensively. As far as he was concerned, he hadn't done anything wrong here, the Conclave had. He was just talking. "He's sort of in … pieces," seeing her expression, he kept talking, "if it helps, he was defiant to the end. And a lot of us thought he had the right idea," Zeke added quickly. "But he was too liberal, he was too dangerous to our ideals."

Max felt nauseated but hid it well. She sunk into her chair, fighting despair.

"Um … it's been thousands of years in the making, Max. It's okay. For what it's worth, at least you're not going to die too, right? So yeah, at least you tried," he piped up enthusiastically, giving her a light nudge in the ankle with his shoe. "Well, that's that. I'm hungry … what's for breakfast?" he glanced around, coming to a slow stand.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked incredulously. She hadn't heard anyone say anything _that_ stupid since … er, the last time Alec said something stupid. "Thousands of years of plotting by some crazy cult doesn't justify slaughtering the entire world. And what about Logan, OC and the rest of my friends? What about them, Zeke?" she hadn't given up at all; she was just trying to make him see the light. Max hadn't heard that kind of faulty logic in a while.

Zeke shrugged. "They're not crazy, just … misguided. Besides, it's not my problem. I told you what I know, at my expense I might add. We can't do anything, might as well let nature take its course. All bodies of water are connected, like veins, so it'll be quick. It'll only take a month or two, people won't suffer. Much."

"At _your_ expense? People are going to die and it's at your expense? I _seriously_ doubt answering a few questions qualifies as that. You sound like you don't agree with some of the things they do."

"I don't. In fact, I hate what they're doing, but I can't do anything about it. I'm just a soldier. I take orders and that's that. You know, if you think about it, we're sorta related."

Max ignored Zeke again, she pondered all sorts of things. What to do next, for one. How to do it, secondly. And so on and so forth … _All bodies of water are connected. Like. Veins. _Something struck her. _Veins. Blood. _"Where's the heart, Zeke?" she spoke up suddenly, startling him.

He stopped rising and plopped back down in the chair, ignoring the grumbling in his stomach. "Right … here, Max," he placed his hand on his chest, right over his heart. He eyed her tediously, wondering where she was going with this.

"Of the Conclave," she rephrased the question.  
  
"Oh, you mean the North American Hive? Dunno, they keep that information buried. Only Priestesses know where it is."

"Then where can I find a Priestess?"

"Oh no, now _that_, I can't tell you," he stated. "That's like … the maximum crime. I mean, telling you about something you can't change is way different than helping you stop them."

All right, she had enough of this. Patience never was one her virtues. "ZEKE," she thundered, leaning forward and grabbing the arm rests of his chair. She leaned forward and locked eyes with him, despite his efforts to avoid it. "Tell. Me. Where. I. Can. Find. A. Priestess. _Now_," surely they had relocated since Max last found them. "They're not at Brookridge anymore, are they?"

"Nope," he let out a snicker just thinking about it. "Man, they're pissed off. You drove them all to this crappy, stuffy factory in—" he paused. "Oh _no_, you're not gonna sucker me into talking. I told you I couldn't."

"… Don't make me hurt you, little boy. Because I will." Max studied his face, some of the indifference left him and was replaced with gloom. Zeke's various mood changes throughout this conversation hinted to Max that there was a lot more than what was on the surface.

"I. Can't," he replied ruefully, emphasizing each word that came out. "I wish I could, but I … can't, Max," he admitted. His gaze traveled to settle on his dusty boots. He kicked lightly at the ground.

She exhaled. "Why … can't you tell me, Zeke?" she asked gently, like a mother speaking to her guilt-ridden child.

He murmured something so unintelligible; her advance hearing only picked up the word 'her'.

"Who's 'her'?" Max tilted her head to the side, genuinely curious. There was something more to this scenario than a stubborn teenager.

Zeke twitched noticeably, still kicking at the ground nervously as he contemplated whether to tell Max or not. For a few seconds Zeke just stared at her, a glare developed and homed and fine-tuned by years of hardened training and probably, tragedy. "Not that it's any of your business," he bit out slowly, "but Elena."

"Keep going," she urged, annoyed that he often spoke in fragments. Max paused to glance at the X7 who just entered the room. He had with him the lighter they had requested. Max nodded to Zeke, and the X7 handed it to the boy before resuming his post.

"First, watch." Zeke tested the lighter by flicking it on and off. The little flame was hardly threatening to Max and she didn't know what exactly it was that he could do. Lighters were rare in Terminal City, lighters with a sufficient amount of lighter fluid was rarer. But a small flame was all he needed. Zeke tensed his fingers a bit, and flicked them outwards towards the flame. In response, the previously small flame erupted into a five-inch pillar and shot upwards toward the ceiling. The X7's drew their rifles and aimed, but Max lifted a hand to signal them to ease off. She watched. Zeke made the pillar of fire bend into different shapes; figures, faces, landscapes, and so on and so forth. He then pulled the fire into a vertical flat sheet and leaned forward to ease his face into it. "Hey look, I'm on fire," he stated jokingly with a smirk, then pulled his face back out. When the flame died down, the lighter was smoke and charred from top to bottom. But Zeke's skin appeared flawless.

Max found this slightly disturbing and leaned hard against the back of her chair. "Cute trick, must be a hit at parties. How do you do it?"

"Magnets can push and pull metal. I can push and pull fire, it has to do with body chemistry and atoms. I think I can withstand six hundred degrees before keeling. Or was it four hundred? I forget, it's not like I regularly cook myself to see how much heat I can withstand."

"… Interesting," Max was impressed but wouldn't even hint what she thought or felt. "You were saying."

"Right. Um, where was I? Oh yeah. The Elements have always consisted of four people, we were bred to represent the four elements. Wind, earth, fire, and … water. Rianne's wind, Davis is … no, _was_," Zeke's throat tightened, "earth. Elena's water." He paused for a second to let his finger hover over the fire. "Davis, Rianne, Elena, and I didn't want to do this mission to be honest. None of us condone murder in cold blood … if you believe that. But before the mission Elena fell sick. They didn't tell us what she had, only that it was bad and it was killing her fast. And they said the only way to save her was if we, er, killed you," he felt his cheeks warm in embarssment.

"They put Seth to stand in for her on this mission. He's not one of us, but he's good enough. A little crazy if you ask me, but that's because he's had a traumatizing childhood. Has the tendency to rip people's heads—"

Max looked skeptical of that. Furthermore, he didn't want to hear about some messed up kid's life story. She had a rough childhood too, tough luck. "—No offense to your parents and whatever they told you, but I don't think killing me is going to make your sister better. And Seth is the mute kid, isn't he?"

"He's not mute," Zeke corrected. "People think he's mute but he just chooses not to talk. The only person he talks to is Rianne, they have this thing going on. It's really odd, he doesn't even talk to his mom. Rianne says he 'hates that bitch', if you'll excuse my French.

"And I don't talk to my parents. I told you I'm in a special breeding line, we're separated from our parents," he sounded apathetic to that, and he was. It was probably customary in his religion, or … cult. Whichever. "And … ew, Elena's not my sister," he sounded disgusted at that suggestion.

"I agree with what you're saying, how could someone's death make someone else better? That's exactly what we thought too, that's why we argued our orders. We put up one hell of a fight with the Conclave, we all didn't want to go on this stupid mission. But ever since Whitey landed the Phalanx in jail, they couldn't scrap a decent team together in time. Elena got sicker and sicker as days went by. In the end, we gave in. They told us it was the only way … so we had to try.

"I told you what I know, what I don't know, and what I can't tell you and why. They'll pull the plug on her if they think we helped you. I don't care what you all do to me, but I can't tell you anything more. Besides, I … made myself forget so you're wasting your time."

And that was that. Max sighed a heavy sigh, she and everyone else would need to find a different way to approach this. It would take more time, time that would be paid in lives, but that's the way the ball rolled. "Until this is all over, you're going to be held in warehouse 5. If you try to leave, the X7's have orders to shoot you," she said sternly. Max came to a stand and stretched her muscles. She had had a rough night— no, rough day, week, month, year, and life come to think of it. Plus, she hadn't completely healed from the bullet wounds that were still fresh in her body. But that's the way things were for her and had always been. One way or another, she would deal.

"I understand. And I won't try to escape. Even if I _could_," he added. "The Conclave's better off thinking we died, so they can keep treating Elena. And … don't look so discouraged, Max. Besides, if what I predict happens, the Conclave's going to come to you."

Max yawned, stroking the skin near her bullet wound lightly. She choked down that yawn and looked down at the seated Zeke. "What?"

"Your death is everyone's highest priority. They'll never stop coming for you," he confessed, with a hint of an apology in his tone. "Besides," he yawned loudly, stretching his arms and cracking his back, "the Priestess has a bone to pick with you. No doubt Familiars will be coming at you from all sides. Now it's personal to her."

"I doubt that it's personal. I've never even met her," Max pointed out.

"No … but you have her son," Zeke retorted.

Zeke felt the ripple of shock run through her, but didn't flinch in the least. He knew that one would catch her off guard and wasn't surprised at all of her reaction.

"You're telling me … I have the Priestess's son in custody _now_?" she spat, annoyed and pleased all at the same time.

"Well, you never asked," he shrugged, smiling widely. "I dunno. But hey, I'm hungry; can I get some food or what? And maybe a bag of ice too, Alec nailed me good in the head with my rifle when we were fighting," Zeke absently rubbed his sore forehead.

"After all we've talked about, why didn't you tell me you were the Priestess's son _sooner_?!" she said expasteredly. Honestly, Zeke could be worst than Alec. But now she had something concrete to work with, after all this time, it was the break they needed. Now Max could call up a meeting and they could all finally construct a _solid_ plan. Or they could make it up as they went along. Regardless, now they had something tangible.

Now there was hope. For everyone.

"Oh no, you've got it all mixed up," Zeke interrupted her train of thought, cracking his neck a bit. He yawned again. "I told you,I never knew my parents. I'm not the Priestess's son."

She froze. "What?"

"I'm not the Priestess's son," he repeated, his voice trailing a bit, then picking up at the end. "Er, I thought you knew."

Max waited for him to finish.

"Seth is."

------------------------------------

**Location: **Somewhere in Seattle, Washington.

**Time: **7:30 AM PST

The council member turned his glass around in his hand, his eyes on the remains of his drink as it swirled partway up the side in response to the movement. "You're sure about all this," he said.

"I'm sure," The Priestess said positively. "Before we lost Reeve Tanner, he reported to Ames White that the Elements had the upper hand. That leads me to believe Seth and the rest might still be alive in detainment."

The dim-litted, royal council room seated six people, but currently, only one bodily figure was present. A thick, crescent desk of oak curved into a long smile. Behind the desk and empty seats of rich mahogany were large, individual plasma screens projecting the faces of the four other council members around the world. They were all being transmitted this emergency meeting.

"452 is our _highest_ priority, Scarlet. She has deflected everything we've thrown at her, it is my advice to put this to rest for now. After the Coming cleanses the earth, 452 and her friends will be the only ones left aside from us. In that situation, we will have strength in numbers and no governments to hold us back. As of now, we do not have the resources to waste on a useless rescue mission. Anything else we try will surely compromise our mission and identity. I trust you haven't lost sight of our true goal," the same council member reminded her.

The other council members murmured in agreement.

Scarlet nodded, gritting her teeth lightly to form an unconvincing smile. "I understand that High Councilor Grayson. But with all due respect, with Seth and the others alive, 452 could force them to divulge crucial Conclave secrets. We know that 452's lack of action denotes she's unaware of her power, but who's to say she will not decipher it later?"

This time another council member mumbled something. "If I may," one of the councilors spoke up.

"High Councilor Camdis of Europe," Grayson declared.

"Thank you," Camdis nodded to Grayson. "I think Priestess Scarlet strikes a very valid point. It would be foolish to assume 452's inability to find a cure within a month. She's known to be very resourceful from the reports we've received. This could be catastrophic. I speak for the European Hive."

Another council member stirred.

"High Councilor Tanaka of Asia," Grayson called.

"Thank you, Councilor," Tanaka narrowed his eyes in thought. "I believe a vote is in order."

The others murmured their agreements.

"Fine," Grayson bit out, hiding his agitation and doing it well.

Scarlet suppressed a smirk.

"On the subject of pursuing 452's execution," he declared. "Those who agree, state your consent. From the right," he gestured to the plasma screen on the very right.

A dark skinned man furrowed his brows in thought, then eased up. "The African Hive gives its full support."

Next. The asian man stirred in his seat. "The Asian Hive consents this course of action."

And the South American, and the European too. Despite what Grayson thought, the Council had overwhelmed him by votes. "Very well," he stated coldly, looking down on the Priestess with a hint of anger. "You have the Council's approval to terminate 452. Double the security at the dam. Do what you will and report to me directly. This meeting is adjourned."

The council members bowed out one by one, their plasma screens fading to black. After Grayson shot a dirty look at her and left through the back door, Scarlet was left alone in the meeting chamber.

The door behind her creaked opened and another man entered from the back, he was a scientist by the appearance of his lab coat. "How'd it go?"

"We've been given the okay to get Seth," she replied, satisfied. "Oh, and kill 452."

The two of them turned to leave the room, walking in stride down a quiet hallway.

"What's the girl's condition?" Scarlet questioned.

"Elena? She's healing quickly," the scientist replied, nudging his glasses up. "In two days, she'll be to full health."

"I see. I was afraid of that," Scarlet frowned. "Keep dosing her with the virus, just in case any of the Elements are still alive. We need the girl sick to keep them loyal."

"Yes ma'am," the scientist nodded his head in agreement. Things had gotten so out of hand, it was amazing how one person could cause so much trouble for so many people. After some silence, he finally spoke up. "You really think this is our best hope, don't you, Priestess?"

Scarlet broke her stride and considered the question sincerely. "No, Professor," she said, lowering her tone as they passed by two Familiars, "I believe it's our only hope."

**Author's Note: **I can't wait to use all the X5's in the upcoming chapters. They're awesome when they work together.


	8. The Double Double Cross

**Author's Note: **I would've uploaded this chapter yesterday but the site insisted on being difficult.

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 8: The Double-Double Cross

**Location: **Outside Terminal City. Seattle, Washington.

**Time: **10:30 AM PST

"I've got a visual. They've stopped at the harbor. Is that the all-clear sign, Rogue Two?"

"Looks like it, Isaacs." Rogue Two clicked a button on his walkie-talkie and leaned into it. "Rogue One, this is Rogue Two. Target is at the rendezvous point, I repeat, target is at the rendezvous point. Do we have permission to move in?"

"One second. Okay, I see them, Rogue Two. Move your squads in. We'll trail you."

"I told you the Elements would come through," Isaacs said matter-of-factly.

"They're still cocky little kids to me," Rogue Two shot back. He then clicked a button on his walkie-talkie and brought it to his mouth. "Roger that, Rogue One. You heard the man," he ordered his driver.

The black hummer approached the parked Durango cautiously, then came to an abrupt stop ten feet behind the target vehicle. Its doors flew open and four armed men in military clothing jumped out in a tight formation with their guns drawn. A black limousine trailed behind and mimicked the hummer's action. Out stepped four more men in the same uniforms with the same weapons, pausing eight meters behind the first squad.

Rogue Two led his squad towards the Durango, holding his hand up to halt their advance when he was close enough. His squad lowered themselves to one knee, scopes focused on the exits of the Durango.

"Mars?" Rogue Two called out towards the parked SUV.

"I'm right here, Rogue Two. Calm down," the driver of the Durango stuck his arm out the window and waved to them. The door creaked open— and out stepped Zeke. "I've got 452 with me," he said with a smirk, gesturing to the back of the Durango. Through the presidential tinted windows, Rogue Two made out two figures in the backseat. A blond man, and a struggling brunette.

"You're alive," Rogue Two stated, surprisingly. "When we got the call to rendezvous, the base was in disbelief. You were assumed dead."

"You assumed wrong," Rianne stated dully as she climbed out of the Durango, standing beside Zeke. The Caucasian girl and Asian boy measured up evenly in terms of height. Zeke knew she hadn't grown five inches in ten hours, Rianne was most likely hovering off the ground. _Show-off._

All eight of the soldiers seemed relieved, lowering their guns and standing at ease. "Who else is with you?" Rogue Two asked.

"This is it. Rianne and I are the only ones who made it out. We lost our entire team," Zeke declared bitterly, a twitch was visible at the corner of his lips. "599 was compromised, we didn't have time to go back for him."

"And Seth?" Rogue Two questioned immediately.

"KIA," Zeke said quietly.

"I see," Rogue Two replied, falling into a tense silence. He seemed to take this news with some surprise. "The Priestess is going to be _very_ upset when she returns."

"She'll get over it," Zeke retorted quickly. "Where is she now?"

"Had to make a trip to the dam to up the security. She's on the first flight back. Are those handcuffs tight?" Rogue Two gestured at Max and Alec.

"Are you kidding me?" Zeke looked offended to even be asked that. "Do I look like an idiot to you, Rogue Two?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Rogue Two snorted.

Zeke narrowed his eyes into angry slits. "You're way out of line, Sergeant. I'll have your rank pulled faster than you can say—"

"—Enough," Rogue One interrupted. "Transfer 452 into the limousine," he told one of the soldiers.

The soldier nodded and made his way over to the Durango. He led Max out into the middle of the circle and forced her to crouch, while the soldiers kept their guns locked on her. "Captain, we've got another one," the soldier declared. He went back to fetch Alec, leading him to crouch beside Max. Their hands were bound by handcuffs, and their expressions were of pure distaste.

"Who's this?" Rogue One asked, coming from behind Alec and kicking him below the left shoulder. Alec jerked forward, his face almost meeting the dirt, but pausing in descent as he regained his balance last second. Rogue One chuckled, his rifle was cradled in both hands, and the barrel was positioned firmly at Alec's temple. "Not so tough now, are you tranny? Want to try something_, pretty boy_?" he challenged, goading.

Alec didn't reply, he simply kept his eyes focused on the ground.

"That's X5-494, he tried to interfere with our escape," Zeke explained.

"And you didn't simply kill him?" Rogue Two asked incredulously. "_Stupid kids_," he muttered lowly under his breath.

Rianne's hearing picked that up. And by the look on Zeke's face, she knew he had too.

"Our orders were to kill 452 only," Zeke shot back defensively. _Asshole._

"Then it seems like you didn't complete your mission. Not to worry, our orders are also to execute 452 immediately," Rogue Two commented, cocking his rifle. The others set their fingers on their triggers to which Zeke raised his hands upwards to stop them.

"Whoa whoa whoa. Did I say Seth was KIA? I meant _MIA_," he corrected himself hastily.

"If the Priestess wants to know where her son is, 452 will need to be bullet-ridden free with the ability to talk and form proper sentences," Rianne added. The two Elements were standing off to the side, outside the circle of soldiers.

"Rogue One?" Rogue Two turned around to face his superior, clearly confused as to what to do.

Rogue One didn't seem as confused; he knew his orders and the priority. "The Priestess will want to know what happened to her son. She'll want to see you two, your last report is well overdue."

"Yeah, no kidding. Better get back to HQ," Zeke muttered, stifling a yawn and stretching his arms. He led Rianne back to the Durango but she paused in step, and spun around.

"Oh yeah, there's something else Zeke and I have to add to our report," Rianne declared suddenly.

"What's that?" Rogue Two asked distractedly, fidgeting with the safety on his rifle. The soldiers had nudged both Max and Alec into a stand, and were marching them towards the limousine.

"... The accidental slaughter of Rogue One and Rogue Two's squads," Zeke stated quietly, over the buzz of rapidly approaching motorcycles.

Rogue Two didn't pick up Zeke's words, and neither did anyone in his squad for that matter. They were too distracted by the four approaching motorcycles kicking dust, two people to each cycle, and a shooter behind each driver.

Rogue One looked up from his watch and squinted to see who was approaching in the distance. When the sound of gunfire overtook the sound of motorcycle engines, Rogue One's eyes widened and comprehension dawned on him. "Ambush!" Rogue One bellowed over the noise. "Alpha formation, alpha formation!" he shrieked.

But it was too little too late. The Familiars were too surprised and unorganized to get into proper and effective defensive positions. One of the motorcycles seated Syl and Krit. Being the better shooter, Syl set the rifle on Krit's shoulder and started taking out as many soldiers as she could, her rifle spilling bullets. The other three cycles seated Logan and Joshua, Gem and Dalton, and Brin and Mole respectively.

And in that instant, Max and Alec exploded into action.

Their loose restraints proved simple to escape from. Mindful of her sore shoulder, the young soldier beside her was her first victim, doubling over in agony as Max swung her fist viciously down and back into his stomach. In the same motion she plucked away the rifle that had suddenly appeared in his hand, twisting around to fire a shot at the older soldier as the younger collapsed on the ground.

Alec went straight for Rogue One, seizing the man by the soldiers and slamming him roughly against the hummer's mirror. Rogue One was as durable as any Familiar, but he lacked in the speed department and paid for it. Alec blurred, dodging fists left and right. One nicked him in the jaw but he kept moving. A window of opportunity opened and Alec took it. He caught Rogue One by the neck and clamped down on the man's air pipe. Two seconds later, the unconscious squad leader slumped to the ground. "That's _Mister_ Pretty Boy to you," Alec muttered.

Logan kept the motorcycle steady on track as they fastly closed in on the familiars. Behind him, Joshua braced himself and wobbly stood up. "Ready big guy?" Logan called out behind his shoulder.

"Ready," Joshua grunted in response.

The motorcycle ripped through the formation and Logan fought to keep it balanced as Joshua lept off and tackled two of the soldiers to the floor. Max ran over to Joshua to help him out, but by the look of it, Joshua didn't need any help. He grabbed both soldiers by the neck and slammed their heads together. He rolled out of the way, just in time to avoid Brin and Mole riding in.

Mole seemed to be having a ball firing his shotgun wildly at the remaining and scattered familiars. "Hell yeah, now _this_ is what I call taking action," he shouted gleefully at Brin, who was focused on driving the motorcycle.

Brin didn't respond, just grinned.

Meanwhile, Zeke and Rianne stood off to the side by the Durango, looking mock surprised. "Oh _wow_, Rianne, did you see this coming?" he asked, more fascinated with his nails than the fight.

"Certainly _not_, Zeke," Rianne replied dully, stifling a yawn. "Totally unforeseen."

"Yeah, I'm so dazed with confusion," Zeke said dully.

And in a flurry of hands and arms, it was all over. Five familiars were unconscious, and three were dead.

"Clear?" Max shouted as the dust finally began to settle.

"Clear," Logan called out, stomping his foot on the ground and turning the motorcycle off.

"Clear," Krit called out, standing over a dead Familiar.

It took a few seconds before they all checked in.

"No one in our squad dead or missing any arms and legs. Wow, old Deck would be proud," Alec commented with a grin, dusting his shirt.

"Gee, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside," Mole retorted.

"Clemente really came through for us," Max interrupted, observing her group. "He'll keep the government at bay but we gotta keep our end of the deal and fix this bitch. Now there are eight uniforms so that's more than enough for us. Dalton, Joshua, Mole, and Logan are staying at Terminal City, they'll take the motorcycles back."

Joshua had already argued this point to Max, as had Logan, and they both lost significantly. Joshua simply grunted tentatively in response, while Logan frowned. Mole was already puffing another cigar, looking nonchalant as ever as he nodded.

"Syl, Krit, Brin, Gem, Alec, suit up. Someone dump the three bodies," she commanded.

Krit and Brin went off to do that while the others began stripping the soldiers of their uniforms.

"Man, they're going to wake up with a nasty surprise," Alec said with a snicker as he held up a pair of military pants.

"Load them up into the Durango, we're taking them back to Terminal City. Zeke, Rianne, you two okay?" Max casted a sideways glance at the two, they had been uncharacteristically quiet. Well, Zeke had at least.

"Oh yeah, Max, your two POWs are unharmed," Rianne stated. "_Cocky little kids_?" she mouthed, looking amusedly at Rogue Two's unconscious form. "That'll show you."

Zeke, on the other hand, didn't seem half as pleased as Rianne. "The faster we get to HQ, the better. We need to help Elena."

In the time since Zeke's interrogation, a lot had occurred. For one, Max had extracted a bit of information from Seth that had proved very interesting. Seth admitted to Rianne that the Conclave was deliberately poisoning Elena for the mission's purpose. Rianne, in turn, told Zeke, who told Max. It was betrayal of the highest level, Zeke had shouted during their discussion at Terminal City. It was because of this deception that Davis and Zeke ended up on the mission, and in turn, Davis had lost his life. Seth would be detrimental to the mission so they left him behind. But the two Elements agreed to help Max and tag along. Well ... technically, as Zeke had pointed out _many_ times— they weren't exactly _helping_ Max. It wouldn't be anyone's fault if they were delivering their prisoners and a group of transgenics _accidentally_ got the jump on them. Then, due to that, the transgenics _accidentally_ found HQ's location through the navigational equipment in the hummer and _accidentally_ reached HQ.

Needless to say— a lot of accidents were occuring today.

The Conclave's influence plus Max's insistence that she could find the cure opened the barricade for a few seconds, enough to let the Durango and a few motorcycles through. Though at a price. Now they had to find the cure and they had to find it quick. As far as anyone was concerned, the plague was connected to the transgenic blithe. Reputations had to be cleared and lives had to be saved before anyone could call this mission accomplished.

"Right," Max replied. As the others got changed, Logan pulled Max off to the side to talk. The two of them hadn't spoke since Max had hatched this plan. Now, before they were ready to enter phase two, Logan could no longer keep silent.

"You know I don't like this plan," Logan said gravely, taking her by the hand and squeezing it.

"I know," she said, concern etched into her features. "But we don't have a lot of choices, and if we wait any longer, we won't have any at all." She then eased up, smirking as she observed the situation. "I'd kiss you, but I need to keep my head in the game," she echoed an old line. "That, and you might drop dead."

Logan smiled wryly, not sure if he wanted to finish this word game. He made up his mind. "Just ... come back." Pause. "Though," he pointed out, "the _last_ time I said that—"

"—I know how the story goes," she cut in, hushing him gently. "Take care of Josh, Zane, Zack, and Terminal City for me, will ya?"

"It'll be there when you come back with the cure," Logan assured.

"Good. You better get going," he nodded over to Mole, who had loaded one of the motorcycles into the back of the Durango and had occupied one himself.

"Max, be careful," Logan warned. There was something else in the look he was giving her. At first Max guessed it to be worry, and that was common, but now she was picking up a strong dose of ... fear?

"Always," she said, peering at her group. "I've got a good crew with me," she assured.

Logan casted one last look at her, then turned around and trudged over to the Durango. Two minutes later, they were completely out of sight. Max sighed before inhaling some clean ocean air, that is, if they could consider Seattle harbor to be clean. "Let's go, people, we don't have much time!" she announced to them as a whole. "And _Alec_—" she called out, looking very irritated.

"Yeah Max?" Alec looked up, loosening his belt.

"Get changed somewhere over _there_," she stabbed her finger in the limousine's general direction.

He grinned and walked off.

"Okay team, get ready to move out."

------------------------------------

**Location: **Outside Seattle, Washington.

**Time: **12:40 PM PST

The trip was considerably longer than Max expected, maybe because she was itching in anticipation to get things over with. Riding in the limousine with Rianne, Zeke, and Alec proved to be entertaining to some extents. Alec was teaching Zeke how to play poker, and Rianne was watching boredly. The three were huddled in a triangle at the corner. Krit and Syl were at the front of the limousine, one driving and the other navigating.

Brin and Gem were trailing closely behind them in the hummer.

While waiting for Zeke to make a game decision, Alec peered at Max from the corner of his eye. "So Max, what's the plan?"

"We've been over this a few times, Alec," she said wearily, peering out the window and watching the scenery fly by.

"Refresh my memory. What do we have so far?"

"So far? We go in quick and quiet in cuffs. They'll put is in separated cells most likely. Zeke and Brin will take the passage to the Priestess' office. Syl, Krit, and Rianne, will push through the back and to the Command Center. Gem'll watch our backs and keep the engine running in case we gotta blaze fast. We'll be sleepers until Rianne comes to get us. Quick in, quick out, no one will ever know we were there."

"That's if we're not detected," Alec pointed out.

"We won't be," Max put in firmly. "The soldiers were randomly picked at the last minute by the Priestess. She's not going to be there, and she's the only one who knows who she assigned the mission to."

"You _think_ she's not going to be there," Alec pointed out, persistent as ever.

"Worst case scenario? She will be," Max demanded, annoyed. "Then we'll take her with us if it comes to that. Most important thing is not to trip the alarm. If they have one."

"Oh they have one," Rianne tossed in. "But I can disable that no problem when we're at the command center."

"Good, how about the rest of the plan? You know, in case it _really_ does go sideways?" Alec asked.

"It won't," Max retorted.

"You're making this up as you go, aren't you?" Alec inquired with a tilt of his head.

"You know me," Max said with a grin.

"Yeah, I do. Hey kid, hurry up already, it's poker, not chess," he glanced at Zeke.

"I'm not a kid, and, royal flush," Zeke set down his cards triumphantly. "When we get back to T.C., you owe me two boxes of cheeze-its."

Alec stared wide-eyed at Zeke's cards, then shook his head. "Um, I have a Full House, that's worth exactly the same as a Royal Flush."

"It does _not_," Zeke protested. "You liar, you just said that—"

"Tie game," Alec announced, swiftly sweeping up all the cards with one hand and neatly arranging them in a single deck.

"HEY," Zeke bellowed.

The two soon engaged in a bickering match which Rianne had to referee.

On second thought, the trip was definitely going was to be a long one, Max noted silently.

------------------------------------

**Location: **Fudgy Buddy Factory in Seattle, Washington.

**Time: **1:30 PM PST

The entrance to the factory was modest, as any factory would be expected to have. There was a Fudgy Buddy logo splashed above the light blue metal double doors. The factory wasn't just one building, it was a building beside a building beside a building beside an apartment. There was a large plot of empty desert land that stretched half a mile west and served as a parking lot. The structures were newly painted to look old, as if the residents wanted it to mesh with the empty background. All in all, it looked like a small colony. They had better not trip the alarm because the close proximity of the buildings made it easy for Familiars to swarm the right places.

Max and Alec had their hands loosely handcuffed and waited quietly in their seats as the limousine approached the factory.

"All right, Zeke, break it down for us," Max spoke up.

"Will do, boss. We're going to pull up to the front. Rianne, Krit, and I will lead you and Alec into the building. Keep your head down, Krit, just in case someone spots you. Syl, you'll keep driving and lead the hummer into the parking lot, park both cars there. Then take your partner and enter through the back door of the second building, which is left wide open. Wait in the cafeteria with your friend, it's on the second floor, eighth door on your left," Zeke was talking quickly, occasionally stumbling on his words. "If things go sour, play it cool and threaten to pull rank. Then demand to see the Priestess. They'll take you into her waiting room, which is next to the room Brin and I will be digging around in for the files."

"Why would rank be so important?" Alec asked from the side.

"Because everyone's preparing for the New World once the Coming wipes out—" Rianne paused, "that is, they _think_ the Coming's going to wipe out humanity," she promptly corrected herself, a little embarrassed for that slip up. "Everyone wants a nice place in the new hierarchy. Rank is super important at the moment," Rianne explained.

Alec nodded. "Hate to bust their bubble."

"How many Familiars should we be expecting?" Max asked.

"The large building there is the old factory, which is now a training facility. It houses prisoners only and the cleaning crews who live there. Probably six maintenance men wandering around but we're not likely to pass through there. The living areas are empty in the afternoon because everyone's at work. There might be twenty or so familiars still wandering around. The main building we're coming up to is the command center. Fifty to sixty max in that one. The last building tucked behind the apartment's a school. It's 1:40 so school's still in," Rianne explained coolly.

"Whatever you do here, just ... don't hurt the kids," Zeke said with slight hesitation.

"We won't," Max assured. "And Alec and I?"

Rianne spoke up. "The Priestess will be here in an hour, maybe longer if her flight's delayed. That's more than enough time for Syl, Krit, and me to get Elena out of the medical ward and Zeke and Brin to get the files you need. They'd recognize your face anywhere, Max, that's why we need to keep you in the cell. You've got Alec as company."

Alec grinned.

Max sighed.

Rianne continued, "When the Priestess arrives, she'll have an escort of about four soldiers. Something to look out for," Rianne shot them all a glance. Syl and Krit were listening in closely from the front. "Zeke and I need to give our reports together so the facts don't contradict each other. You'll be summoned into the room with us, Max, but she won't want to see Alec. Syl and Krit can free him then, there'll only be one or two guards watching over Alec. Should be no problem. Just play along when we give our report, and when you get the chance, just ... knock the Priestess out or something. We can take the back exit out her office and lock her in. They wont know anything happened until it's happened," Rianne concluded triumphantly.

It was, at face value, a very sneaky plan. It had its risks, but for the most part, it was fail safe.

"Keep one of your friends to watch our vehicles," Zeke reminded.

"Gem's got that covered," Syl piped up.

"Then all the bases are covered," Max closed.

"Any last words?" Alec looked around.

"No, it's not like we're going to die," Max snapped.

"That's not what I was trying to say. Unless, of course, you're predicting we die," Alec stated with a grin. His grin faltered at the sight of her world famous venomous glare. "Hey hey, just trying to lighten the mood. Besides, we'll have about an hour and half of quality bonding time in the detainment cell together," he nudged her on the shoulder.

"Don't remind me," Max swiveled around to face the door as the limousine came to a smooth stop.

A group of Familiars with trench coats and black gloves approached the car and watched the car closely. One man reached for the door and opened it.

"Let's get this bitch over with," Max said, chewing unnoticeably at the bottom of her lip. "Into the belly of the beast," she stated.

"—And out of the demon's ass," Alec finished for her.

Zeke nodded, pushed the door wider open, and exited. _Here we go_.

"Welcome home," the first man greeted, a stern expression on his face.

"Good to be home," Zeke replied.

"Yes, welcome home," a strange voice from behind the group of familiars said.

That voice sounded oddly familiar to Zeke.

The group of Familiars parted and another man stepped forward. Zeke's eyes widened and his voice caught in his throat. He heard his heart beating in his ears and his pulse quicken to an unhealthy pace. _Oh crap._

"Fe'nos Tol," the man in the grey trenchcoat greeted. "Good job, Zeke, mission accomplished."

"Yeah," Zeke managed weakly, stepping to the side to let Rianne out. Zeke shot a panicked glance at Rianne, who returned it with a simple, unreadable frown. But underneath it, Zeke could make out how alarmed she was. Rianne didn't blow their cover, and neither would Zeke. The two Elements stepped to the man's side and stood tensely as Max and Alec exited the car.

"I knew we'd get you eventually," the man greeted, flashing Max a toothy grin. "452, what a surprise, nice to see you again."

By the twitch in Max and Alec's features, they were just as shocked.

Max paled and clenched her fists so tightly they turned bright ivory. _Play it cool._ "Wish I could say the same," she muttered. Somehow, Max knew this entire thing couldn't be that easy. Nothing in Max's life was truly easy.

"Hi, White."

**Author's Note: **Major Conclave ass-kicking action next. I feel like getting revenge for Tinga, damn Renfro.


	9. Hope is a Four Letter Word

**Author's Note: **This sets up the scene.

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 9: Hope is a Four Letter Word

"_If we never meet again. It will be too soon."_

**Location: **Fudgy Buddy Factory. Seattle, Washington.

**Time: **2:10 PM PST

"So White, still have a stick up your ass?" Max asked as they walked down the long hallway. She was flanked by four familiars, walking beside Alec, and behind White, who didn't seem to flinch at the question. Or rather, insult.

"If it's there, it's because you put it there, 452," White replied, eyes focused forward as they approached the interrogation room.

"How long did it take to get all that tape off?" she retorted, thinking back to the incident in Jam Pony where Max and her group stripped the Familiars of their clothing. Max couldn't help but grin wryly seeing the irony in this situation. They were using the _exact_ same tactic for this mission.

The corner of White's lip twitched but he did not reply. They continued walking down the hall until they reached a door. "Put 494 in a cell," he commanded a Familiar. "And if he tries anything," White paused, eyeing Alec with obvious distaste, "shoot him in the head."

"Yes sir," the man snapped to attention and roughly tugged Alec's arm.

"Hey hey, watch the jacket," Alec protested, shaking loose the man's arm and walking confidently in the other direction. Though before he did, he threw Max a reassuring look, as if to ease her worries.

Max tried not to watch as Alec was led away, feeling her pulse race a little faster. The interrogation room was just like any other interrogation room. It had one table in the middle, three metal chairs around the table, one light dangling from the ceiling, and one door to enter and exit.

"Wait outside until further notice," White declared once they were in the room.

"Yes, sir," the three men stood tensely by the door, shutting it behind White and Max as they entered.

"Sit down," he offered Max. "I imagine you must be worn out after all you've been through. Running around with your freak friends, causing hell for the Conclave and all."

"You're too kind," Max said, the words sounding distant and mechanical through the pounding of blood in her ears as she forced her feet to keep moving her forward. She realized that she was alone for now, in enemy territory, with no knowledge of the status of her team.

White was still gazing at her, a thoughtful look on his face, and with an agonized effort, Max shoved the fear and doubt away to the back of her mind. If her team was still alive, they could all get out of this. If they were dead, she would most likely be joining them. Either way, this was no time to let her emotions muddy her thinking.

"I want to talk to you about my son," White said, straight to the point as usual. Even though he was sitting across the table Max could blatantly see him reaching for his gun. He pulled it up, showed it to her, unloaded the gun, and set it on the table. "A gesture of good faith."

"You do?" Max said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, a posture designed by its apparent helplessness to put suspicious people at ease. With the same motion she surreptitiously rocked the chair back a bit, trying to gauge its weight. Very heavy, unfortunately, which eliminated it as a grab-and-throw weapon. "I don't remember him, but since I have some time on my hands, care to refresh my memory?"

"This is no time for games," White snarled, pounding on the wooden table between them. Max felt it shake under the force, but didn't flinch at all. "What," he started again, breathing slowly, "did ... you ... do ... with ... my ... son?" each word struggling to escape his mouth. It was as if he was fighting to keep patient, though Max didn't understand why was putting all the effort into doing that. She was in enemy headquarters, he could resort to violence if he wanted to. He also seemed a bit ... rushed.

Then it slapped max like an ice-soaked rag. This interrogation wasn't approved by the Priestess at all, White was going out of his way to do this.

"Are you making a habit of kidnapping other people's kids, 452? First Ray, then the Priestess's son?" White said bitterly, derailing Max's train of thought.

"Kidnap? If I'm not mistaken— and I'm not— her son came to us ... with an assassination squad, weapons, and murder in mind," she retorted. "A mission that he sucked at, by the way."

"Whatever," White dismissed it with a wave of his hand, more concerned with his own son than Seth. "Whether you want to or not, you _will_ tell me what I need to know," he said menacingly, a threat looming in that statement.

"You can't touch me," Max said matter-of-factly, yawning. "Or the Priestess will have your ass."

"Right," White said, exhaling slowly. "Right, you're absolutely correct," he conceded the point, but didn't look the least bit defeated. "However, your friend doesn't have the same immunity." White stood up and backed up towards the door, then gave it a few knocks.

The door creaked open and a soldier entered with a baseball bat in one hand. A second soldier entered with Alec in tow, his hands still bonded. Alec was forced forward and dropped on his knees.

"You'll tell me what I want to know ... or we're going to find out how tough Manticore really made you freaks," White said threateningly, now holding the bat and eyeing Alec.

------------------------------------

**Location: **Cafeteria, Fudgy Buddy Factory. Seattle, Washington.

**Time: **2:10 PM PST

Syl, Krit, and Brin were sitting in the cafeterias in a secluded corner of the room. Krit was eyeing his soup hesitantly, jabbing it with a piece of bread. "What now?" he spoke up, looking at the two women.

"Plan's been compromised," Brin stated mechanically, "but the deception's still intact. For now," she added. "It'd be smart to proceed as planned, the only minor problem we have is ..."

"White, yeah," Syl said glumly, downing a bit of her iced tea. The three of them were still dressed in their military outfits, helmets off and set to the side.

"I bet Rianne and Zeke know that too, they'll be here," Krit stated weakly, casting a guarded around the cafeteria. There were soldiers talking here and there, a chef in the back, and a few kids visiting their parents. All in all, silent. For now.

Minutes letter, a group of soldiers came, whispering to each other as they approached the three. Krit snapped to attention, hand falling to grab his rifle under the table. The two women were faster already prepared for a fight if it should come.

"Rogue One, Two, and Three?" the blond man asked the three of them, looking skeptical.

"Yeah, that's us," Syl spoke up for the three of them, her muscles tense.

"Wow, I didn't know we had two women in Alpha Squad," the blond man said suddenly, cheering up.

The brunette man behind him gave him a punch on the shoulder for that.

"Oh, sorry, I meant no offensive," the blond man quickly added.

"None taken," Brin piped up.

"What can we do for you gents?" Syl asked, easing a bit, but still as alert.

"Ah, well ..." the group of men looked at each other awkwardly, before one of them reached into his pocket and pulled out ...

Krit flinched.

... a _pen_. And a pad of paper to boot. "We were wondering if we could have your autographs, it's not everyday we get to meet the saviors of the Conclave," the brunette man asked anxiously, eyeing them all nervously.

The three X5s seemed to be taken back by this, but exhaled.

"Wh—" Krit started, but paused midway as Syl stomped his foot. "_Ow_," he muttered under his breath.

"We'd be happy to," Syl declared, taking the pen and notepad and signing her alias on it. She purposely scribbled it messily so the name couldn't be made out clearly. She passed the notepad around to Brin, saw her sign it, then saw her pass it to Krit. Once they all signed five separate sheets of paper, Krit returned it back to the blond man.

"Can we have one last one? Made out to Danny," the blond man spoke up, holding out the notepad and pen against hesitantly.

"Yeah, sure," Krit replied quickly, relief spreading over his features. Once that was done, the soldiers profusely thanked the three and started out of the cafeteria.

"I didn't see that one coming," Syl announced the obvious.

"We tend to get blind-sided often on this mission, don't we?" Brin stated dully. Underneath that stoic expression, Syl and Krit could clearly see she was amused. While other people saw Brin as an emotionless woman, the X5s, her siblings, could easily see through the façade.

"What was all that about?" a fourth voice spoke up.

The three of them seemed to tense again, peering to the side to spot ... Rianne. A clean and happy looking Rianne at that. She had changed out of her dirty clothes, showered, and put up her hair. She seemed amused that they were so stressed, but she supposed if she were in the enemy's headquarters, she would be too.

"Some of our biggest fans," Syl stated.

"They're not so bad," Krit spoke up suddenly, sounding distracted as he peered into the distance. "The Familiars I mean, some of them aren't ... evil like White."

"They're not so bad," Rianne said matter-of-factly. "Just like you and me."

"There's no good or bad in life," Brin stated, shaking her empty cup a bit. "Just a fence, and people on different sides of them."

"Right. Thanks, Miss X5 Guru," Krit shot back sarcastically.

"Speaking of White," Syl interrupted, back to business as usual. "Any change in plans?"

"No," Rianne replied, content with at least that part. "He separated Max and Alec, I think he's going to interrogate her first. Don't worry though, the Priestess wants to see Max, if there's one bruise on her, Whitey's in big trouble."

"Good," Krit said, releasing his grip on the gun and settling back into his seat.

"All right, Zeke will be here in a few minutes, Brin. He's still changing. Syl and Krit, you're coming with me. Walk on either side, gun barrels pointed at the ground. And don't ... by any chance, get ahead of me. It's Familiar protocol, you're my escort, it has to look right," she rubbed the back of her neck generously and yawned. "The sooner we finish this, the less people in the world die. It's a horrible thing, what's happening, what we're doing ..." she stated, looking with some disgust at the Familiars in the room.

"You can tell them that when we've completed the mission," Syl said quickly, putting her helmet back on and standing.

"Good luck you two, always keep your guard up," Brin said forebodingly.

"Yeah," Syl replied. "Of course. Good luck to you too."

Krit jabbed his soup with a piece of bread again and grabbed his spoon. "Wait, what about lunch?" he protested, dipping his spoon into the bowl and bringing some soup to his lips.

Syl grabbed him by the elbow and tugged him back, causing him to drop the spoon. "Mission first," she stated sternly. Rianne was already at one of the cafeteria exits, leaning against the doorframe and waiting patiently.

Brin was still seating, looking amusedly at the two of them.

Krit stood up and his stomach growled in response. "_Fine_. But after we save the world— you owe me lunch."

------------------------------------

**Location: **Medical Ward, Fudgy Buddy Factory. Seattle, Washington.

**Time: **2:40 PM PST

After Syl, Krit, and Rianne departed, Brin was left to herself at the table. Ten minutes later, Zeke rushed into the cafeteria with his hair still wet from a recent shower. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized, a bit out of breath. "I had to sprint ten stories down, then out the apartment and into the command center."

Brin ignored the eyes that were undoubtedly on the two of them due to Zeke's noticeable entrance. She played it calm and collected, just like always. "You're forgiven," she replied, wiping her lips with a napkin, and setting it down.

"Ready to go?" Zeke asked, forking a hand through his damp hair.

"Of course," she replied coolly, coming to a slow stand and equipping herself.

"No need," he spoke up quickly. "Marching around in full armor toting a rifle will get some attention, don't you think?"

"But Rianne took Syl and Krit fully armed," Brin pointed out.

"Yeah, but they're going into a restricted section of the medical ward. They need to look formal— we don't. We're just getting information."

"Right ..." Brin said wearily, leaving most of her belongings in place but taking two handguns. "Lead the way to the Command Center then," she said, fastening her hair and straightening up.

"Command center? Oh no, we're not going into the command center," Zeke corrected, grabbing a piece of bread that Syl had left untouched and taking a bite. "That place is restricted as hell," he said with a full mouth, washing down the bread with a can of soda he plucked on their way out of the cafeteria. "I have clearance, but I don't want them to know we were snooping around."

"Then?" Brin asked, cocking a brow.

"Well there's only one other place the information's stored," he said, downing a few more gulps of soda. "That's the Priestess's office. Her plane's on schedule last I heard."

"Then should we run?" Brin questioned, falling in step with him as they turned at a corner and walked up a flight of stairs.

"No," he said. "But we can walk fast."

**Author's Note:** All the death and destruction comes next.


	10. Leap of Faith

**Author's Note: **Definitely won't turn M/A.

This chapter is dedicated to Somebody's Dark Angel and idlehands452 for their continued support. You two are awesome!

Bam bam! Die, evil Familiars.

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 10: Leap of Faith

"_It's only after we've lost everything, that we're free to do anything."_

**Location: **Fudgy Buddy Factory. Seattle, Washington.

**Time:** 2:55 PM PST

Walk fast they did, reaching the Priestess's high office in record-breaking time. The hallway to the Priestess's office was completely vacant, it seemed like the entire floor was reserved just for her. After climbing thirty flights of stairs, it seemed the hardest obstacle the pair faced was a stubborn door guard.

"For the last time," Zeke started, sounding exasperated, "I have clearance to be in here. This is my escort," he gestured to Brin. They were wasting precious time, and Zeke was starting to get anxious at this point, his palms sweating and his temperature rising. He could always set the man on fire ... but that would trigger the fire alarms.

"_For the last time_," the young man mimicked, "no one is allowed to be in the Priestess's office while she's away. No one."

Brin had been deadly silent this entire conversation, but that comment was the last straw. "We don't have time for this," she snapped.

"What do you want me to do then?" the guard sneered. "Just hand over the keys and face detainment?"

"No ..." Brin replied coldly. The next thing happened so fast, Zeke almost missed it when he blinked. Brin had seized the man by the collar and pulled him forward, then struck him roughly on the neck with a karate chop. He hit the floor with a thud, and didn't get up afterwards.

"You killed him!" Zeke protested, looking shocked.

"No," she corrected, reaching down to wrench the keys out of the guard's pocket. "I knocked him out."

"... Well, I guess that's okay then," he murmured as she held the door open for him. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and dragged him in, setting him firmly out of view behind the couch. "What happens if he wakes up again?" he asked.

Brin shut the door and looked at the boy, cracking her knuckles in response to his question.

"Gotcha," he said, needing no further explanation.

"What are we looking for and where would it be?" she asked, scanning the room from wall to wall. It was mostly filled with expensive looking things like an elaborate mahogany desk with ivory engraving, ornamental lamps, paintings, leather couches, sturdy bookcases, etc. Nothing in particular jumped out at her except the computer. "The computer," she pointed out.

"Already on it," he snapped to attention and circled around the desk to turn it on.

While he was busy with that, Brin examined the tall windows aligned on the wall and peered out of one. Compared to the outside of the building, the inside of this office was drastically different. It was tasteful, classy, and very out of place in a good way. About thirty feet away she saw a tall metal pool stretch upwards, with a strange flag at the top. Brin ran the flag through her memory and couldn't pinpoint what country it was for.

"Zeke?" she called out.

"Mm?" he acknowledged in response, his eyes locked on the computer screen.

"What flag is that?"

He paused to look at what she was referring to. "Our flag," he replied.

"Ah," she said, understanding.

After a few minutes passed, she spoke up again, "So how's it going with the information?"

"Locked down," he said, sounding frustrated and resigned. "Stupid computer won't let me in. You want to have a go at it, Brin?" He stood up from the computer chair and wiped some sweat off his forehead.

"Hm," was all Brin said, frowning thoughtfully at the Priestess's desk. Historically, the majority of people who were able to afford ivory furniture were wealthy politicians, industrialists, and fringe crime lords. All of whom always had things to hide ... "Let me try something," she removed the pins in her hair and approached the desk, crouching down beside it.

It took Brin less than a minute to locate the secret drawer hidden away beneath the ivory desks' writing surface. It took only two minutes long, with the help of some rather illegal tools, for her to force it open.

"Oh wow, _cool_," Zeke said in awe as Brin did her job. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

"No," she snapped, looking at the drawer's contents.

"Can you tell me someone who would?" he tried again.

"No."

"Well ... can you tell me the name of someone who knows someone who can teach me that?" he tried one last time.

"NO," she snapped, ending that discussion permanently. Inside the drawer were eight discs. Three of them carried the labels of official Conclave briefings: one from the European Hive, the other two from the World Council intelligence.

And the other five ...

"Make copies of them," she ordered Zeke, as he slid one of the discs into the computer. "All of them, even the official ones. We'll see what Logan can do with them."

"Let me try something, um, if it's all right with you," Zeke asked hesitantly. Brin was creepy in that strict, stoic, deadly soldier kind of way.

Brin simply nodded.

Zeke began tapping on the keys on the keyboard and accessed the disc. His eyes ran up and down the monitor before— "Yup, I knew it." He smiled tightly at Brin. "It's here, it's all here."

"The cure?" Brin stepped to his side and looked over his shoulder. Zeke didn't reply, she got her answer by simply looking at what he found. No, this disc didn't contain the cure, it was something else. It was there, all right: names, locations, amounts, details, and various transactions. Everything.

"It's all the evidence we need to connect the Plague to the Conclave."

"Yeah," Zeke said, ejecting the disc quickly when he heard some rumbling in the distance. "Elevator, someone's coming up," Zeke snapped.

"Shut down the computer now," Brin ordered, looking at the hidden drawer. She had done an efficient job of forcing the lock, but there was no way the damage could be covered up. The minute the Priestess opened the drawer again she would know someone had been there.

And Brin came to a decision. "Never mind copying them," she said, gathering up the discs and putting them into her pocket. "We'll take the originals."

Zeke blinked. "What? But—"

"You have a show to put on, let's go," she rushed out the office.

Zeke wasted no time shutting off the computer and darting out the room. Brin shut the door just as he exited, just in time before—

The elevator opened and they heard multiple pairs of feet march down the hallway. "Ezekiel!" a voice called out in greeting.

Zeke shot one last nervous look at Brin, before turning around, putting his game face on, and smiling. What he saw wasn't what he expected. It was a long line of people consisting of the Priestess, White, Max, Alec, and men in suits he didn't recognize. They looked especially important however.

"Fe'nos Tol, Priestess. I take it your flight was comfortable?" Zeke tried not to stare the men in suits, but was failing miserably.

"Fe'nos Tol, Ezekiel. As comfortable as it could be, I suppose." She paused to watch Brin intently.

Brin didn't seem to squirm even though Zeke did. This was going to be _disastrous_, he thought silently. He glanced at Max who didn't look back at him. He looked at the bloodied and bruised Alec. He looked _everywhere_ except at the Priestess. They were all compromised and the Priestess was going to have them all executed and ...

"Well open the door, we don't have all day," the Priestess commanded Brin, who quickly complied. To everyone's surprise including Max's, the Priestess mistook Brin for the door guard. For now, they could all breathe a sigh of relief.

Max exhaled, casting a worried look at Alec. Zeke tried not to stare at either of them and followed the Priestess into the room.

"No one is to be allowed in during this meeting, is that clear?" she said to Brin.

"Yes, ma'am. Crystal," Brin replied calmly. Brin was Manticore made; she was a natural for this soldier business.

"Where's your friend?" White spoke up, looking at Zeke. "She's late."

Zeke tore his gaze from the floor and looked up at him. He opened his mouth to speak when—

"—Sorry I'm late," Rianne said hurriedly, ushering them all into the room. She shot Zeke what looked like a frown, but obviously she couldn't explain why she was frowning at the moment. Brin hesitantly shut the door, giving Max one last nod. Lingering in the back, Syl and Krit waited beside the elevator.

Max couldn't help but smirk, they were in good standing so far. _So far_.

"What happened to him?" the Priestess asked coldly, gesturing to the battered Alec.

"Resisted arrest," White lied, suppressing a grin.

"Right," the Priestess said unbelievingly, but didn't care enough to pursue the topic. "Into the meeting room then. Everyone get settled," she ushered. Then, amidst her audience, she addressed Rianne and Zeke. "You two have completed your mission, for that, the Conclave highly applauds your efforts. Though with high casualties, you have done what _others_," she paused to glance at White, "could _not_ accomplish."

White was positively seething now, to Max's amusement.

Rianne was looking at the men in suits getting seated on the couches. She swore she knew who they were, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

The Priestess paused and followed Rianne's gaze. She immediately understood. "Oh yes, I forgot, how horrible of me. Ezekiel and Rianne, may I introduce to you ..." her voice trailed, hand pointing to each man as she introduced them. "High Councilor Camdis from the European Hive, High Councilor Tanaka from the Asian Hive ..." and she went down the line, introducing each high official one by one. Although Max wasn't a Familiar, she realized how important these men must be if Rianne and Zeke were both stunned.

"Wow ... it's an honor to meet you all," Rianne snapped to attention gave them a bow, then saluted them. Zeke mimicked her actions.

"This is 452, I suppose?" Camdis inquired, his voice laced with a British accent. He was wearing a fine tailored black suit with a red tie— just like all the other High Councilors were. Camdis cupped Max by the chin and gazed into her eyes to get a better look. He was clearly unimpressed. "So much trouble ... from such a young lady," he murmured.

"_Bite me_," she retorted, shaking his hand off.

Camdis blinked a few times and eased off. "... _Charming_," he snorted, moving away and back to his seat.

The Conclave leaders seemed to be struggling to hold in their laughter.

"Priestess, a question," Zeke spoke up.

"Go ahead, Ezekiel," the Priestess was still looking at Max.

"What has happened to Elena?" If all had gone according to plan, Rianne, Syl, and Krit had rescued her and she was waiting in the hummer with Gem. Hopefully the Familiars would notice she was gone, rush the Medical ward, and give the group a window of time so they could escape ...

From the side, Rianne shifted in place. She tried to catch Zeke's attention, but his attention was steadfastly focused on the Priestess.

"Oh yes, your _girlfriend_," she recalled, frowning a bit.

"Um, my _colleague_," he corrected, his cheeks warming to that word.

"Same thing," she dismissed. The Priestess let out a heavy sigh before continuing, "Ezekiel, I'm afraid to report that ... yesterday evening, Elena succumbed to her disease. Right after you reported in with us. She was a _great_ soldier and young woman. Her death is a _great_ loss to this Conclave," the Priestess declared, looking distressed.

Max could see through the false sincerity without blinking. She hoped that everyone else could too.

Zeke absolutely paled. He froze in horror, feeling his legs buckle from the shock. So _that's_ what Rianne wanted to tell him. "No, no, no ... that's impossible," he breathed, looking at Rianne, hoping for her to tell him otherwise.

But Rianne simply shook her head in sorrow.

"Zeke, I know this must come to a shock to you, to you and Rianne both, but—" the Priestess cut off her sentence when Rianne came to his side and set a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

To everyone, it looked like she was giving him a hug. In actuality, however, Rianne was preventing Zeke from drawing his gun. Rianne led him to the corner where the two of them talked privately, both of them looked like they were locked in an embrace, but really, she was _struggling_ to keep him from losing control.

The performance was so convincing, everyone dismissed it.

"Well then, let's get this over with," Camdis reached into his suit pocket to draw a .44 magnum. He pressed it against Max's forehead.

"Wait!" The Priestess interjected. "We need 452 alive, that was the deal. What about Seth?"

"To hell with your son, Scarlet," High Councilor Grayson snarled. "Do it, Camdis."

"You promised," she bit out, swatting Camdis' arm to lower the gun. "You promised," she insisted.

"We all did," Grayson sneered, gesturing to the entire Council. "But promises are easily broken, Scarlet. Camdis, do it," he encouraged.

"Oh bloody hell, Scarlet, Grayson's right. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can move on," Camdis raised his arm again.

The Priestess's eyes darted around the room, as if looking for support. "That doesn't matter," she ground out. "A promise is a promise. White, White! Think about your son!" she shrieked. "You need 452!"

"I am overriding the Priestess's command. Stand down, Ames White," Grayson commanded, gritting his teeth.

White seemed to hesitate for a second, torn between the two commands. He finally made his decision, rushing forward to tackle Camdis to the ground. The other Councilors seemed shocked by this outburst, and froze in place.

"Treason!" Councilor Tanaka shouted, slamming his fist against the table and standing to act. The other elders did the same.

"The punishment for treason is death, Agent White," Grayson bellowed.

"Go to hell," White spat. He kicked Camdis's gun away and ran over to Grayson.

"I have a better idea," Max spoke up suddenly, amidst the chaos. "How about ... you _all_ go to hell," she shouted. On cue, the door burst open and three of the X5's entered with their rifles drawn.

"Cavalry's here," Krit shouted, taking aim at the stunned High Councilor of South America and taking him out. Brin drew her two handguns and fired at Grayson, who caught four to the back immediately. White was struggling with the Councilor up until that point. When he realized the Councilor was already dead, he pushed the body off.

"I hate wrinkly old men hell bent on global destruction," Max growled, slipping her hands free of their bonds. She took Camdis by the wrist, who had long since retrieved his gun and aimed it at her. Max roughly twisted his arm back and broke it, then wrenched the gun free and tossed it at Alec, who had also just freed himself from the cuffs. Alec looked barely conscious but he mustered enough strength to catch the gun and shoot the retreating African Hive leader in the back of the calf twice.

"Where's White?!" Alec shouted suddenly, still crouching on the floor, and wiping the blood that was gushing profusely from a cut above his eye. Alec's eyes darted around the room but there was no sign of good 'ol Ames.

Two of the remaining Councilors attempted to run out the room as well, but Brin and Syl stepped in their way. Syl simply kicked one in the kneecap, breaking it, then threw him against the other Councilor. The two men got tangled up, and in the process, tripped over the coffee table. The African Councilor, who had staggered to a stand clutching his bleeding calf, limped towards the door. In the ruckus, all three blundering Councilors slammed into each other and roughly punched a hole through one of the large windows. All three had clumsily fell to their death, or at least, to a painful fate below.

"Wow ... Good job," Brin stated, staring wide-eyed over the edge of the window. Thirty stories down, she could see the pile of bodies.

"... Yeah," Syl said breathlessly, acting as if she meant to do that. "Nothing to it."

By now, all the High Councilors were either down or dead. Bottom line, they longer posed a threat.

"... And where do _you_ think you're going?" Krit asked as the Priestess ran by.

Alec held out a foot for her to trip on, and down she went, tumbling hard onto the floor.

"ZEKE. RIANNE, DO SOMETHING," she shrieked, struggling against Alec's vice grip.

Up to this point, the Elements had stayed out of the battle and said nothing ... up to this point, of course.

"... You _killed_ her. Just like that, just like an animal. You killed Elena." The words had come from Zeke, but his voice was so distorted as to be almost unrecognizable. "You're a murderer."

"... What?" she looked at the two of them, pulling herself to her knees. "I don't know what you're talking about." Her eyes darted between the two Elements, gauging their allegiance. "She's the enemy, you kill _her_," she jabbed a finger accusingly at Max. "Don't have any seconds thoughts," she warned threateningly. The Priestess was clutching her side for some reason. When she lifted her hand a bit, everyone caught a glimpse of two bullet wounds.

"No ... you're a murderer," Rianne spoke up timidly at first. Then, mustering more courage, she continued, "the Professor confessed it all."

"Impossible," the Priestess breathed, knowing that she had been caught in a lie. "Don't be absurd," she dismissed Rianne's statement. "This is a direct command, Ezekiel, Rianne! You will comply or face the consequences." The Priestess's eyes seized on Max. "_She's_ threatening everything we've worked for! Your past, your present, and your _future_."

"Lady, you've got your facts seriously screwed up," Max protested, raising a brow and looking annoyed.

"Regardless, _they're_ still Familiars," the Priestess was now shouting her point at Max. She waved her hand towards Rianne and Zeke. "They're not your kind, they're not genetically brewed trash—" the Priestess spat.

"—He's sounded the alarm," Brin interrupted immediately, running back into the room and shutting the door with her boot. "Syl, the couch, quickly," she gestured to it.

Syl didn't need to be told twice, moving the couch over to barricade the door.

"White?" Max asked suddenly, tearing her attention from the Priestess.

Brin confirmed it with a nod. "I'm guessing he's pulled the alarm, the Familiars should be en route."

"Good 'ol Ames. Damn, this is _bad_," Alec murmured, taking Syl's hand to stand up. He put his weight on the other X5 and struggled to rise.

"Bad? You mean your condition or the situation?" Krit asked, retrieving a bundle of tissues and pressing it to Alec's forehead.

"Both," Alec conceded.

"We need to get the hell out of here before the reinforcements come storming in. And trust me— they will," Brin noted, looking out the shattered window and seeing all the clamor below. "They're aware. We need to do something ... Max?"

To that, everyone peered to their appointed leader.

Max snapped to attention, rising to her selected position. They had gotten so far, and she would not let them down. "First off, Brin, do you have the discs?"

"Positive," Brin patted her back pocket.

"And Rianne ..." Max called out, hesitantly approaching this topic, "it's too late for Elena, right?"

"Right," Rianne replied quietly, while Zeke cringed and looked away.

"Then our entire team's here. All we need to do is get _out_," Max peered out one of the windows and looked down at the large courtyard, then the passed the flagpole, the apartment, the school, the parking lot, and ... Gem! "Krit!" she called out.

Krit was by her side in an instant. "Yeah?"

"Grab a mirror or a piece of glass to send a message to Gem. You can catch the sun if you stand on that side of the room. Tell Gem to bring the cars into the courtyard below."

"I'm on it," and Krit went to work.

"Brin," Max called out.

Brin snapped to attention.

"Make sure that stays closed," Max jabbed a finger at the door, which was currently being held shut by one couch.

Brin nodded and swiftly busied herself with moving furniture.

"Syl," Max called out. "You're the med girl, you keep an eye on Alec, got it?"

"Got it," Syl replied.

Max shifted her gaze to look at his bloodied face, her face expressing a sisterly type of concern. "You okay, tough guy?"

"I'm hanging in there," he replied through a thick bundle of tissues pressed to his nose.

"You know I couldn't tell White where his son was," Max explained. "Or he would've killed you on the spot," she said, feeling some guilt bubble up.

"I know, don't worry about it now," Alec dismissed weakly. "But when we get out of this, you really owe me, Max," he chided with a smirk.

"Done," Max flashed him a tired smile and looked around. The only people left were Zeke, Rianne and ...

"Hold it right there," the Priestess called out, a gun had suddenly appeared in her hand. "Transgenic trash, even if I die, at least thousands of years of breeding won't go to waste," she cocked the trigger, and a gunshot rang through the room.

Max took a reflexive step to the side. If the bullet had come her way, it would have been easily dodged. The thing was, the Priestess wasn't the one who fired the gun. Rianne had.

The Priestess gasped loudly, taking a sharp intake of air as her eyes bulged out in pain. Then, in a neat fashion, she crumpled back onto the floor, displaying the damp crimson dot spreading outwards on her back to everyone.

"Thanks," Max said, a little taken back.

"... Yeah, no problem. Besides, she was rambling again, I had to shut her up," Rianne replied with a wry grin, dropping the smoking gun to the floor.

Max nodded, looking around at her battered team. For a group of X5s trapped on the thirtieth floor of the enemy's HQ, they were in fairly good shape. Fairly. "Anyone have any ideas how to get out?" she asked.

"We're thirty stories up," Syl spoke up. "Long way down."

Max grimaced. "True. But given the givens, I'd say we've been through worse."

"I agree," Brin said.

"Me too," Krit spoke up. "Though ... at the moment, I can't think of a particular time ..."

"—Wait, there _is_ a way," Rianne's anxious voice interrupted.

Everyone seemed startled to that statement, pausing whatever they were doing to gaze intently at the Element.

Rianne squirmed but continued explaining. "But we'll have rotten odds."

"Last ditch options are like that," Max said quickly, urging Rianne as courteously as possible to hurry up and get to the point.

"Well, I can sort of levitate off the ground," Rianne said. "I can't carry a lot of weight so one person at a time will have to go with me. I can hover one person down at a time."

"Rotten odds?" Krit pointed out in question.

"Well, it's exhausting for me. If something goes wrong midway, you might ... erm, plummet to your death?"

Krit twitched. "Ah ..." he said, understandingly, "yeah, _rotten_ odds."

"Plus it'll take a long time," Syl pointed out.

"Better if a few of us survive than none at all," Brin retorted with a foreboding feeling in her stomach. For some reason, she predicted that their luck was about to run out.

Max was staring quietly at the Conclave flag throughout the discussion, following the pole's length down to the floor. An idea clicked in her mind. "I've got it."

Syl simply craned her neck to the side and furrowed her brows. "Go ahead," she invited, wiping more blood off of Alec.

"It'll work, I'm sure of it," she replied with a hint of newfound hope in her voice.

Everyone perked up to this.

"All right, gather around, people. Here's what we're going to do ..."

**Author's Note: **What better way to get back at the Conclave than to throw their leaders out a thirty-story window?

All right, bad stuff happens in the next chapter, but that's all I can say.


	11. Casualties of War

**Author's Note:** I'm the master of disaster.

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 11 : Casualties of War

_So get back, back, back to the disaster,_

_My heart's beating faster,_

_Holding on to feel the same._

**Location: **Fudgy Buddy, Factory. Seattle, Washington

**Time: **3:45 PM PST

"Got it?" Brin asked, gripping the doorknob firmly.

"Got it," Zeke confirmed, "open the door."

Brin kicked the last piece of furniture out of the way and yanked the door open to give Zeke a clear view of the hallway. From over his shoulder, Rianne and Krit continuously threw expensive bottles of moonshine, one by one, into the vacant, but soon to be full hallway. When the bottles broke, large amounts of liquid splashed against the hallway's walls and coated the surfaces with it. Zeke slapped his hands together and cracked his fingers. He gritted his teeth and summoned the energy inside of him. He thought of Davis and Elena, then slammed his fist against the floor, a carpet of fire erupting and ripping its way through the hallway. The flames began to engulf the walls and ceiling also, creeping its way to wherever the liquid rested. Before long, the entire hallway was one blazing inferno.

"That should stall them for a while," Krit said, satisfied.

Brin quickly shut the door firmly, then began moving the furniture back into place.

Meanwhile, as Krit could see through the window, Rianne was hovering in the air, mid-way between the Priestess's office and the flagpole. Max had her foot bordering the edge of the window, her eyes calculating the distance from there to Rianne. She then turned her attention downwards to where Gem and the hummer were waiting patiently. Apparently Gem had ran back to the parking lot to fetch another hummer as to make room for the large group about to make their escape.

With the alarm still blaring, the Familiar children in the schools had been ordered to stay in place and out of the way. Most of the soldiers were most likely running up the flights of stairs to get to the Priestess's office since the elevator had been disabled by Krit and Syl. All that was left to do was to get ... down.

"All right, Syl, you ready?" Max ran a critical eye over her comrade, examining the woman's use of couch pillows as temporary gloves. It was a smart move, especially when metal left outside at this heat would be blistering.

"Ready," she confirmed, gauging the distance between the building's edge and Rianne one last time.

"Let's do it," Max quipped, eyeing Syl carefully.

Syl took a deep breath, bracing herself for the physical task at hand. She took a few steps back and stretched her muscles. Then, after the quick mental and physical preparation, she tore off running forward towards the window. If she didn't make it, then, hopefully, Rianne would catch her in time before she fell. And if that wasn't possible, then at least it was a quick death.

Syl felt her legs tighten as she braced herself one last time. With all the strength given to her by Manticore, she pushed off the edge of the building with her strong legs and threw her arms forward to reach Rianne.

Rianne was in a handstand position, floating with ease in the air fifteen feet away from the window. She stretched her hands out and caught the leaping Syl. "Gotcha," Rianne called, sinking a bit because she was now holding Syl's weight. Then immediately afterwards, with a slingshot effect, Rianne swung Syl around and threw her towards the flagpole. Syl was propelled with an excess of momentum, more than enough to reach the flagpole. She grasped the pole with both hands and slid down to the ground in fireman fashion.

_It works, thought so. _Max let out a sigh of relief, as did everyone else. "All right, let's go one by one. Krit, then Brin."

The two X5's nodded, Brin looking confident now that she had seen Syl. The two went one at a time, just as instructed, and mimicked Syl's actions. They got the same results, all of them landing on the ground safely and jumping into the hummers immediately afterwards.

"Alec, can you make it?" Max called out, with a bit of concern in her voice. He was still bleeding, but it looked like only his upper body was battered.

"My legs are fine," Alec replied, already prepping himself for the jump to Rianne, then the throw to the flagpole. When Alec reached the ground without incident, it left Max and Zeke in the room alone.

Max could hear the panicked yells of Familiar agents as they reached the hallway and discovered the tunnel of fire. "We're running out of time, Zeke, can you jump the distance?"

"No," he replied quickly. "But my body mass is lighter than yours, Rianne can hover me down after you're done. You go."

"You sure?" Max asked hesitantly, peering at the barricaded door from the corner of her eye. There was loud banging on it.

"Positive," Zeke assured, drawing his gun and aiming it at the door in case anyone made it through. By the look of the barricading job Brin did, he was fairly sure no one would get in until after they all escaped. But it was just a precaution.

Max didn't say anything else since they were low on time. She cracked her knuckles and took a few steps back. A few seconds later, she was soaring through the air towards Rianne, and a few seconds more, she slammed lightly against the flagpole and slid down its length. The metal pole in the sun was, as expected, hot as hell. She cringed, imagining the blisters that would form on her fingers once this was all over. When Max's feet hit the ground, she ran towards the hummer.

Syl, Krit, Gem, Alec, and Brin were all in one hummer, looking anxiously as the events unfolded.

"You guys blaze to Terminal City," Max commanded, looking up the side of the building and seeing Familiars staring at her. They were yelling commands for a group to rush down there and stop the X5s' escape.

"Damn, we've been spotted," Syl cursed.

"Some are on their way back down," Krit tossed in, "I'm guessing eight to ten."

"All right, here's the plan," Max spoke quickly but clearly. "You guys go and don't look back. Show Logan what you found and he'll know what to do with it. We'll meet you there."

"Bad plan, no way," Krit protested. "We never leave a member of the squad behind."

Gem nodded in agreement. "We'll fend the soldiers off if they get here before Zeke and Rianne make it down."

"No, too risky. If we get captured and lose the information now, all of this will have been for nothing," Max countered.

"But Max—" Krit started again.

"—This is a direct order, soldier," Max said coldly, feeling the soldier in her awaken.

"Then it's decided. You heard her," Brin snapped. "Let's get the hell out of here. And ... be careful, Max," she added. The other X5 seemed to radiate concern. But as always, the logical Brin knew this was the best course of action and agreed to it.

"We'll ... see you later then," Gem said out the window, still sounding reluctant. Nevertheless, she shifted gears and gunned the acceleration. Before long, the hummer had made it onto the main road and was rushing towards Terminal City.

Max jumped into the second hummer, its engine already on. "Come on, you two, hurry up," she muttered, peering out the window and looking up. It wouldn't be long before the Familiars found both of them. Just a matter of heartbeats.

Max saw Rianne moving towards the window and Zeke jumping forward to clutch her ankles tightly. The two of them descended down the length of the building slowly and shakily— but surely. The Familiars had already extinguished the hallway fire and broke into the office, a group of them were peering out the window and down towards Zeke and Rianne. When the two Elements were hovering near the twentieth floor, gunshots began raining down on them. Instinctively, Max searched for a weapon, her eyes falling on a rifle. She reached for it, then retracted her hand quickly. "Eva," she muttered, thinking back to the traumatic moment in her life when her sister was gunned down by Lydecker. Ever since then, Max avoided guns at all costs. But now the cost was too high. With the Elements needing cover fire, she found herself stuck in an inner struggle. Max looked out the hummer's window again, seeing the two still hovering slowly downwards amidst the gunshots. Rianne had a fresh bullet wound on her shoulder, and Zeke was cringing in pain.

At the last minute, Max overcame her fear and snatched the rifle out of the backseat. She cocked it and was relieved to find it already loaded and ready to go. "Let's see if I remember how to do this," she muttered, rolling down the window and thrusting the barrel outwards. With her eye focused through the scope, she began firing.

It was a long time since she fired a gun, but the instant it came to life, it felt ... right. Max was a natural, using the deadly weapon like an extension of her body. She took out four Familiars by the window easily, their bodies dropping from the top like rain.

By the time the Elements set foot on the ground, Zeke was reduced to carrying Rianne's wounded body towards the hummer. He yanked the back door open and set her body face down in the back seat, then slammed it shut and climbed into the passenger seat. Max retracted the rifle and shifted the hummer's gears, slamming her boot on the gas. The large armored vehicle jerked forward and kicked up dust as it accelerated forward and away from the Familiars that had made it back to ground. Zeke ducked when gunshots sprinkled against the back of the car, causing it to zoom left and right. The hummer's tires screeched as it jumped off the dirt and landed onto the concrete pavement.

"We made it!" Zeke shouted in relief, slapping his forehead in disbelief. "Crap, I can't believe we made it," he sounded as surprised as ever, leaning heavily against his seat in relief.

"Not yet we haven't," Max retorted, glancing up at her rear view mirror. "They'll be chasing us, no doubt. Can you work this?" she shoved the warm rifle into his hands.

Zeke took it uncertainly and grimaced. "Not ... really, no," he confessed. "I'm a bad shot."

"You look through the scope, and you pull the trigger," she explained, with no hint of sarcasm in her voice, "it's not that hard, really."

"Guess I don't have a choice. Yeah okay, I'll try," Zeke tucked the rifle under his shoulder and turned around. He made the best of the cramped space in the passenger seat to get into a good shooting position.

"When they come, you take out their tires first," Max ordered, "don't bother going for the engine."

Zeke nodded beside her.

"Hey Rianne, how you doing?" Max called out.

Zeke blinked, Rianne having slipped his mind completely. "She took a few shots, but she's tough," Zeke replied, when Rianne didn't. "Won't you, Rianne?" Zeke asked tentatively. When she didn't respond, he slid the rifle out of the way and gazed around and down at her. "... Rianne?" he called out again, grasping her shoulder and nudging it a bit. Zeke then pulled Rianne over and saw that the bullets hadn't just hit her shoulder— there were three crimson circles on her chest.

"Oh ... no," he said exhaustedly, his breath suddenly caught in his throat. "No no no," he muttered continuously. "Rianne, come on, wake up," he called out, shaking her more.

Max blinked, sparing a glance over her shoulder to spot Rianne's lifeless body. She felt a new sense of dread in the pit of her stomach, her face muscles tightening into a frown. She turned around to face forward again, her facial expression carved of pure stone. Max pressed down on the gas a little harder as the hummer roared down the road at dangerous speeds, and exhaled deeply.

"I'm sorry," Max murmured in condolence, but her words were lost in a river of Zeke's grief. First Davis, then Elena, and now Rianne. Zeke continued sobbing quietly into his arm, refusing to display his tear filled eyes to Max.

"Come on, Rianne," Zeke urged, Max heard his voice crack. "Wake up, _please,_" he pleaded, shaking her shoulder again, but to no avail. "If you leave me, I'll ... I'll be all alone."

Max shut her eyes for a few heartbeats, refusing adamantly to turn around. She tried her best to tune out Zeke's restrained sobs. So ... so she had failed. Max had failed as a leader, losing one of her own in the line of fire. If she hadn't waited so long to pick up the rifle, or ... if they had devised a different escape plan, or maybe if— no wait, this was useful. There were no 'ifs' in battle, there were only 'do's or 'don'ts'. Rianne was a soldier. Like Eva, like Tinga, like Zack, like Davis, like Zeke, and ... like her. They all knew the risks of battle and they willfully entered themselves in it. As long as there was something to fight for— there would always be fighters.

Max felt the ache in her heart thinking of Tinga and Eva, Zeke's immense grief comparable to the grief Max had experienced when she lost her own siblings. As Brin had said early on, this was a war. And despite the many times Max had denied it— in the end— her wise sister proved to be right. This _was_ a war. And in war, there were always losses.

_There'll be a time for mourning later. But ... it's not now. We're so close ... we can't stop now, _she thought to herself repeatedly. She drilled the words into her head, and with a heavy heart, continued driving towards Terminal City with a newfound sense of strength.

It was a quiet drive home.

------------------------------------

**Location: **Terminal City. Seattle, Washington.

**Time: **5:10 PM PST

The ride home was longer than expected, even if Max was driving in speeds excess of one hundred miles per hour. They had lost an hour dodging and battling their Familiar pursuers, but in the end, they reached Terminal City in one piece. Well, the hummer lost a few pieces of its back and front bumpers, but that was beside the point. Max's cellphone rang the second it got reception. Max stole one last glance at the rear view mirror to make sure it was clear before she picked it up.

"What's the 411?" she asked.

"It's Clemente," his deep voice answered, sounding tired and relieved at the same time. "Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

"Too busy getting shot at and stealing the cure from the Conclave," Max snapped. "What's up?"

"Your friends told us you were separated in the escape, fair enough. Glad to hear you alive," he replied, something lingering in his voice ...

"Clemente," she said warningly, as if urging him to get to the point.

"All right, here's the deal. The government was prepared to storm Terminal City under influence from the public. But since you returned with the discs ... the government has agreed to cease aggression against T.C.," Clemente announced proudly.

Max's heart jumped, and throughout this entire thing, it was the first time she smiled.

"But," Clemente stated.

Max frowned a bit, 'but' was always a bad thing.

"But if the discs prove to be phony, the military's coming in to sweep everything up. I've pulled all the strings I could, but I can't change their mind on that."

Max exhaled. "The discs are good," she assured.

"We're sending a few agents in bio-suits with equipment to run tests in Terminal City and decode those discs, they'll be there when you return. The media's been allowed to stay but the angry mob's disappeared out of fear that they might catch Trigeria and drop dead," Clemente didn't sound the least bit amused.

"Fair enough," Max conceded with a smirk. "Trigeria?" she asked, unfamiliar with that word.

"The FDC's calling the plague that now. Death toll's up to a half a million and rising," Clemente said despairingly. "I think it has six stages, after the fourth, it becomes just a matter of time. No offense, but I'm staying clear of Terminal City too."

"None taken," she quipped, "but about the computer team in bio-suits, I think as long as you drop off the equipment, Logan's better off working alone."

Clemente paused for a long moment, he started to say something, then paused again. "... Max," he started slowly, "where exactly are you right now?"

"Half an hour out of Seattle," she replied hesitantly, dismissing his strange behavior. "... Why?" she asked.

"I see," Clemente remarked, his attitude shifting from urgent to disturbed. "I guess no one's told you yet," he replied, dreading what he was about to say.

"Told me _what_?" she demanded.

Clemente was breathing heavily into the phone, paused, then began to speak.

"Max ... Logan's in the hospital. He has stage one Trigeria."

**A/N: **As I prepare for the last chapters of this story, I just wanted to say thank you again to the reviewers— all of them. They have served as my source of motivation and inspiration. =)


	12. Where The Heart Is

**Author's Note: **Some fluffy M/L stuff.

Oh, and a small surprise is included.

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 12: Where the Heart Is

_Do you care if I don't know what to say?_

_Will you sleep tonight, will you think of me?_

_Will I shake this off, pretend it's all okay?_

_That there's someone out there who feels just like me ..._

_There is._

**Location: **Seattle, Washington.

**Time: **6:30 PM PST

After checking in with her team via cell phone, they all agreed that Max would be a little late meeting them at Terminal City.

The detour to Harbor Lights hospital was one that Zeke reluctantly agreed to. He hadn't spoken a word to Max since an early rant, a rant which consisted of a lot of finger pointing. Zeke rose above his grief, and after the shock and sadness faded away, it made room for strong resentment and anger. The anger was directed at the only person in the SUV— well, the only _alive_ person in the SUV.

"This is all _your_ fault," he had snarled as she exited the freeway. "I don't care what happens to Logan, and I don't care about completing this damn mission. After we get to Terminal City— I'm gone," he had stated firmly.

It was like that the entire way, he was ranting and raving about one thing or another. She took the verbal bashings fine in the first place, but after a few minutes, it grated away at Max's patience— or lack thereof. "This is a war," she repeated exasperatedly. She didn't want to continue this discussion, but she had to recruit him for the sake of the mission. "I know you're suffering right now, but you need to realize you can't change the past. Only the future," she preached. "We need your help. I _know_ how you feel—"

"—You know _nothing_ about how I feel," he snapped harshly. "You talked me into betraying the only family I ever knew, and I lost all the people I loved in the process." He muttered something venomous under his breath and looked away.

"But we can still help millions of other people, Zeke," she tried again. "We can help them from feeling the pain you feel now, we can stop them from losing _their_ loved ones too. I can't do this without you."

"_Screw_ everyone else!" he bellowed.

"Just listen to me," Max said, the words coming out like they'd been sent through a grain-grinder.

"—No, you know what? Forget it. I've heard the sales pitch before, don't waste your breath. This is all _your_ fault—" he rambled.

Max had to actually _slap_ him in the face before he finally settled down for good— refusing to talk to her anymore until they reached Harbor Lights. She felt sick to her stomach, both for her situation and for his. It would be impossible to continue the mission without a Familiar guide, but Max had been through tougher times than this, and she would have to prevail in the end. That, or have the blood of billions on her hands. She casted a weary glance at Zeke from the corner of her eye, careful to avoid looking at Rianne's dead body, which was covered by a spare blanket from the hummer's first aid kit. Zeke was staring blankly out the window, his jaw set and his teeth gritted tightly together. He was either oblivious to her staring at him, or just playing dumb— she couldn't tell which. Max had tried many more times talking him into continuing the mission, almost resorting to _pleading_ at times, but in the end— it was to no avail. Max was resigned to thinking they had asked enough from him— often at great costs— and so she could ask for no more.

Besides, she had other things on her mind right now.

Namely, Logan.

The battered Hummer pulled into the Hospital's parking lot easily, and after shifting it into park and killing the engine, she shot Zeke a weary glare. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't stray too far away from the truck," she warned. She was already in a foul mood, and him piling guilt on top of the other pressures she had was overbearing— even for someone like her.

"Whatever," he muttered, as she exited.

The walk from the hummer to the hospital's entrance was brief, the automatic doors swooshing open upon her approach and sweeping her face with a light breeze. Long and speedy steps carried her to the counter where she quickly addressed the nurse, "Logan Cale, please," Max said quickly.

"Cale ... Cale ... Cale," the woman murmured, running her finger down the computer monitor. "Ah yes, Logan Cale. He's here under military supervision, can I see your identification?" the lady asked.

Max frowned. _What identification?_ Max had no time for this, clenching her fists and sighing. "Listen lady, I'm in a hurry here. Don't make me call Clemente and—"

"Ah yes, you must be Max. Detective Clemente said we'd be expecting you," she brightened up quickly, reaching for a nametag and scribbling 'Max' on it. "You must be Mr. Cale's wife," she remarked as she extended the sticker, "here's your pass."

... _Wife_?_ We're not like that, _Max wanted to say, but decided at the last minute that it was a waste of breath. "Thank you," she said, as politely as she could muster, snatching the sticker and absently slapping it on her chest.

"Room _452_— elevator's down the hall," the nurse pointed out.

Max grimaced at the irony of the situation as she started towards the elevator hastily. _Room 452? ... That's just ... great._ Swift steps carried her through the vacant hallway until she stopped in step and swiveled to face the correct door. Max's muscles were aching from today's exertions, including her heart, but she somehow had the strength to carry on. Exhaling, she placed her hand on the doorknob, then slowly turned it and nudged the door open.

The room was large in comparison to other hospital rooms, and more than enough to fit twenty people comfortably. The window's shades were shut, but two desk lamps resting beside the patient, and one standing lamp at the far right corner of the room illuminated the modest area. The eery silence was punctuated only by the beeping of a heart monitor, the green lines rising and falling at a steady rate. Max pushed the door open cautiously, as if afraid to damage it, and eased herself into the small room. It was well ventilated for the most part, but the familiar scent of hospital disinfectants still clung to the air.

Max thought she was the only other person in the room— she was wrong. At the corner of the room, a short shadowy figure sitting in one of the chairs yawned. Beside him was a taller figure, face concealed by a hoody.

"Hey, hey, it's Max, wake up," the shorter one pointed out excitedly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He nudged the taller person beside him awake.

"Hm?" the larger hooded person stirred, previously sleeping too.

"Okay, tell me if you remember her," the young X6 stated calmly, speaking in a teacher-like tone. "You know her as ..." his voice trailed, leaving the sentence for the other man to complete.

"... X5-452," the man completed confidently, alert and ready within seconds. He came to a slow stand, his muscular build undeniable even under the black sweatshirt. He approached her, then pulled his hood down, the inadequate lighting illuminating his face poorly. It didn't matter in the end, since Max could see in the dark anyway. His sharp jaw, dirty blond hair, watery blue eyes, and that unmistakable voice ... Max could recognize that voice anywhere.

She took an involuntarily step back. She wasn't prepared for this, she was only expecting to see Logan here. Apparently, surprises were coming at her from all directions. This one, obviously, was a welcomed one.

"_Zack_?" Max gaped, completely ignoring the approaching Dalton for now. "What are you doing out of Terminal City? How did you— when— what—" many questions assaulted her all at once, but she managed to pause to wrap her tired arms around him and pull her brother into a hug.

"Nice to see you too," he smirked. Zack was taken off guard, but patted her back reassuringly. "I volunteered. You know, for guard duty," he nodded his head towards Logan's sleeping figure.

"Dalton?" Max asked, shooting the boy a questioning look.

"Uhh, yeah," Dalton took a large step forward, forking his hand through his spiked, blond hair. "Zack, can me and Max talk for a second?"

"Yeah ... sure," Zack eyed the two of them before heading for the eixt. "I'll get us some drinks," he said, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"You want to explain what the hell just happened?" she demanded, after making sure Zack was well out of hearing range. Max kept her voice low but didn't bother to hide her shock.

"Oh yeah ... that," Dalton nodded towards the door as Zack exited. "Isn't it great, Max?!" he asked, perking up.

"_Shh_," she quieted.

"Yeah, sorry," he whispered. "Half an hour after you left for the Conclave's HQ, he woke up," Dalton explained. "And ... I think maybe Logan was feeling guilty or something, but he took it on himself to help Zack regain his memory ... again."

"That's not possible," Max breathed, jerking her head back in shock. "Logan can't get near Zack without triggering something Manticore programmed in him." She thought back to the parking lot where Zack hunted down Logan. She shook her head, clearing that memory from her head.

"That's what Logan told us," Dalton continued, "but something about Logan's contacts throws that programming off course. Logan was making good progress, he knows what mistakes were made the last time Zack's memory was wiped and you tried to educate him," Dalton paused as she twitched to the word 'mistake', but his voice picked up, "but then Logan caught Trigeria and I decided to take up the task of teacher. Logan's been ... yeah," Dalton's voice trailed off, going completely silent since he didn't want to state the obvious.

"So," he spoke up brightly, after she didn't say anything, "how did the mission go?" Obviously, Dalton was making an effort to change the subject into something more cheery, but he failed miserably since the mission was a sore spot for Max right now.

"It was a success," Max muttered. That was all she said on the matter. Max looked behind her shoulder and over to the sleeping Logan. So ... he had put it on himself to school Zack. She smiled weakly to that, _that's just like him._ "How's he been?" Max asked into the silence.

"The same," Dalton said soberly. "Clemente let us leave Terminal City, there are a bunch of FDC people swarming Terminal City and they've been nicer to us."

"If they're looking for the source of the plague, they won't find it in Terminal City," Max replied. "They're looking in the wrong place."

"That's what we said too, but better to just go with the flow and let 'em figure that out for themselves. A lot of the transgenics have been sick too ... with fevers, but all of them pulled through just fine. I guess ordinaries don't have the same immune systems as us," he commented with a shrug.

"No, they don't," Max said distractedly. "Dalton, contact HQ and check on the progress they've made with the discs," her hand dove into her pocket to extract a cellphone. She tossed it over to him, not bothering to see if he caught it or not.

"Got it." Dalton flipped it open and began dialing.

"Er ... can you do it _outside_?" She gestured to Logan.

Dalton took the hint and nodded. "Oh ... yeah, of course. Sorry," he apologized.

"And ... if you go out to the parking lot, you'll find a black hummer with a few bullets holes in it," she smirked, "Zeke's in there. He might be hungry or something. Why don't you tell Zack to bring him up to the cafeteria?"

"Will do, boss," he nodded and quickly slinked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Max exhaled deeply, running her fingers through her hair. It had been a long two days— probably the longest two days of her life— but here she was, still alive, still breathing, and still fighting the good fight. Max crossed the room to grab a chair and set it beside Logan's bed, mindful of the many wires and tubes protruding from his arms and from the machines. She figured out by now that he wasn't sleeping, but instead, he was unconscious.

"Hey ... you," she spoke gently to him, her eyes examining his face. She expected no response from him, and received none.

"I kept my end of the bargain and came back, so ... don't bail on me now," she said, smiling weakly and reaching to take his hand. Max paused midway, momentarily cursing herself for forgetting about the virus. She wanted nothing more than to hold his hand and squeeze it, to tell him that it was going to be all right— but even that was denied from her.

"... I'm going to fix all of this," she started again, her eyes focused on his closed ones. "I'm going to make it all okay. We've got the discs, we'll find the cure, I promise you. But you've got to keep fighting, okay, Logan?" her voice grew weary and desperate, she heard it too. "Don't stop fighting, just hang in there for a while longer."

Max's eyes traced the contours of his face. She was instantly struck by a lingering sadness. She missed his grins, and his ability to assure her that everything would be all right. Now, as Max shouldered one of the heaviest burdens placed upon a single being, she wanted and needed his support more than ever. But Life never asked her what she wanted. No, Life had been tough on her, often times cruel and unforgiving. _What does not kill me only makes me stronger,_ she thought to herself, the quote shining more true now than ever. The hardships of her life, though unpleasant, had forged her into the strong woman she was today.

This was the hand she was dealt, and for whatever reason, _she_ was the chosen one and no one else. And so ... this was the hand she would have to play.

"I ... I love you," she confessed despairingly, doubtful that he could hear a word she was saying. "And you love me too," she said firmly, with her heart breaking as each word left her mouth.

She thought of one last thing to say, and decided on the most appropriate statement she could utter.

"Just remember that if you die on me ... _I'll kick your ass_," she echoed, her eyes shimmering with tears that would never fall. Max leaned forward as if to place a kiss on his forehead, but paused. The corner of her lip twitched as she hesitated and began to pull back, her mind thinking of the virus—

"—You can kiss him, you know," a drained voice spoke up from behind her.

Max spun around in a flash; ready to defend herself or to yell at whomever the voice belonged to. Her eyes darted at the owner of the voice, a tall boy still dressed in his blue jeans and dusty white shirt holding two cups of drinks. Zeke had to have been deathly silent to sneak into the room without Max knowing, or maybe she missed his entrance due to the emotional episode she had just moments ago.

"How long have you been standing there?" she demanded irately, the words coming out harsher than she intended. She was too shocked and uncomfortable to apologize.

He seemed to be slouching as he trudged over to her and extended a cup of cold water. "Long enough," he conceded, looking mortified when he caught her angry look.

She never broke her gaze from him even as she snatched the cup and took a long sip. The cold water was absolutely refreshing, a chilly feeling running down her throat.

"Zack sent me here," he tried to explain again, avoiding the heated look she was sending him. She had every right to be furious at him, after all, he had said a lot of crappy things to her on the way here. He seemed to realize this now, and stared ashamedly down at his shoes.

She wasn't buying it. "What's this about me being able to touch Logan?" she asked, changing the subject and purposely avoiding the use of the word 'kiss'.

"I was talking to Dalton, he mentioned something about a virus?"

Max simply nodded.

"The Coming, or the plague, or Trigeria, or whatever it's called now makes the victim impervious to any other bacteria or virus."

"What?" Max asked, her curiosity piqued.

"It's like the chicken pox, once you have it, you can't get it again. But in the plague's case, once you have it, you're basically immune to everything else. Even your virus thing," Zeke explained, taking a sip of his own drink.

"So we can touch and nothing will happen?" Max asked, astonished.

"Yeah. But usually, a person with the plague dies within a few days anyway, so ... it doesn't matter." Zeke shrugged.

Max sunk further into her chair, grimacing. How many ironies could she face in one day? Before, she couldn't touch Logan or he would die. Now, she _could_ touch him, but he was going to die _anyway_. Max smiled bitterly, feeling her muscles tense. "Then we have to find the cure," she rose quickly, finishing the last of her water. "How much time does he have?"

"He's ... stage one?" Zeke asked.

Max nodded. "Yeah, he is."

"Entering stage two in a few hours. Once he's passed stage four, it's terminal. So ... I'd say he has fourty eight hours? Fifty to be generous."

"We need to blaze. I'll give you a ride to Terminal City, once we're there, you still think of leaving?" she cocked her brow in question.

"I haven't changed my mind," Zeke affirmed. "After ... after I bury Rianne," he swallowed hard, "I'm thinking of a hopping on a train to Canada, and I won't be looking back."

For a few moments they sat there together, the beeping and whirring of the hospital equipment the only sounds. "Well I guess that's that then," Max said at last.

"For what it's worth, I know that you're doing a good thing. And I wish you the best of luck," Zeke said, looking up just in time to spot Zack and Dalton entering the room.

"They've opened all of them, they want you back so they can go over the stuff. Nurse says she'll keep a close eye on Logan, we want to go with you back to Terminal City," Dalton spoke for himself and Zack, his eyes darting from Zeke to Max searching for a response.

"We don't have room in the hummer," Max stated. "You'll need to wait for transport—"

"We came here on a motorcycle, don't worry," Zack blurted out before Dalton could stop him.

"_Motorcycle_?" Max eyed him, her mind falling on the first thought that popped into her head. "That motorcycle wouldn't happen to be my ninja, would it?"

"Yes it would," Dalton replied meekly, chuckling weakly. "We were in a rush, and there wasn't any room in the ambulance and ..."

"Don't worry about it," Max interrupted him. "Let's blaze, we're wasting time."

Zack and Dalton nodded sharply, exiting the room swiftly. Zeke rushed after them, but paused as he reached the door to look at Max, who was still standing in place. "Erm ... aren't you coming?" he asked.

"Yeah, in a second. Go start the hummer," she tossed the keys at him.

Zeke snatched the keys from the air and nodded. "Don't take too long," he turned around and ran towards the elevator, after Zack and Dalton.

Max casted a look at Logan, hoping that it wouldn't be the last time she would see him. She leaned forward again, paused, then finally placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. His skin was felt soft and warm underneath her lips, and as she pulled away, she half expected him to open his eyes.

But he didn't.

"Everything's going to be all right," she said soothingly.

"... _I promise_."

**A/N: **Next chapter starts the beginning of the end. =)


	13. Queen of Hearts

**Author's Note:** Trigeria is the other name for the plague. =)

I really enjoyed this chapter, I hope you do too.

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 13: Queen of Hearts

_Coming down the world turned over._

_Angels fall without you here._

**Location: **Terminal City, Washington. Warehouse 7.

**Time: **7:30 PM PST

"Are you okay?"

"I've been better."

"Hey, I've been wondering, ever since I first saw you two ... are you and him ... ?"

"... Together? Don't think you think that's none of your business?"

"Let me guess, you two 'aren't like that', right?"

"Right," Syl snorted, unaware that she was echoing Max's words. She snipped the rope of bandage as she finished wrapping his forehead. The last end was pressed down and afterwards, Syl examined her work.

"I've heard that one before," he replied with a roll of his eyes.

She twitched unnoticeably. "Don't let anyone take any cracks at it for a while, it might not hold up, even if you _are_ known to be hardheaded," she smiled faintly, putting everything neatly back into the white tin box and closing it shut.

"Noted," Alec replied, fighting off the worst headache in X5 history. Since their escape and his injury, Alec had spent the most time with Syl. Strangely enough, despite all attempts _not_ to ... he found himself growing attracted to her. It wasn't anything serious, just a small inkling of a crush. "Is anything inside damaged?" he gently pressed his fingers against his sore scalp. White had beaten Alec's arms moreso than his head, but the guy sneaked in a good knock at Alec's head. Alec's arms had large ice packs taped to them, which earned him the temporary nickname of "abominable snowman" in Terminal City— a nickname that greatly annoyed him.

"Depends, do you have anything in there?" she retorted, closing the first-aid kid and stalking off towards Krit before he could come up with a good response. The two X5's started out of the warehouse, Krit shooting Alec a grin behind his shoulder before exiting.

"So ... what do you think, are they or aren't they?" Alec spoke aloud to the person who he knew had appeared behind him. She wasn't trying to sneak around, but she was naturally soundless and was undetectable to ordinaries. But Alec wasn't ordinary.

"I don't think it's my place to say anything," Brin replied coolly, reaching over Alec's shoulder to snatch the first-aid kit. "Why, are you interested?"

Alec was lounging in a chair, his feet neatly propped up on the table in front of him. With no more chairs around, Brin opted to sit on the table as she began taping her ankles. It was a tedious task, but a necessary one.

"Well," Alec started, giving the question some thought. Something about Syl reminded him of someone else he liked, the memory slipped his mind presently, probably due to the headache. "She _does_ have a nice—"

"—I'll take that as a yes," Brin cut in, removing some medical tape out of the kit.

He snickered, quickly shaking those thoughts out of his head. "Has she said anything since she returned?" Alec spoke up.

"No," Brin replied, furrowing her brows in thought at the subject of Max. "She's been working non-stop with the CIA in warehouse two, she hasn't come out yet. They're undoubtedly planning something."

"Then who's taking care of _Brother_ Zack?" Alec used that title sparingly, only when he felt like being witty— which was ... all the time. He snatched the unused first-aid kit and dug around to see if he could find any aspirin. There wasn't any.

"Dalton is. Him and Zack were sent to escort Zeke to the train station," she replied, tugging the tape tightly before cutting it off at the end and pressing it down.

"He's gone already?" Alec shuffled his feet on the table, feeling a slight tinge of regret that he didn't get to say good-bye. "Wait, why would he need an _escort_?" that question dropped into his mind immediately after.

"After what he pulled, isn't it obvious?" she dug into the first-aid kit to pull out a brand new bottle of aspirin Alec must've looked over. He reached out to take it from her, but she held it away from him. "The Conclave has him permanently on their hit list, he's wearing a death mark everywhere he goes." She uncapped the bottle and shook out exactly four pills into his waiting palm. "I'm sure he could've gotten there on his own just fine, but I got the feeling Dalton wanted to see it through to the end."

"No surprise there. Him and Zeke were tight before this whole thing." Alec swallowed the four pills all at once without problem.

"This bottled water was pre-Coming, so it's good," she assured, tossing him a clear plastic bottle of water. Brin was aware that most of the water around the world had been contaminated. Even though transgenics wouldn't die if they drank the stuff— they would still get sick nonetheless, and that was a prospect she wanted to avoid at all costs.

Alec had to take twice the dosage to get the same effect, but afterwards, he felt considerably better. The subject of the death mark seemed to shake him a bit. "Oh well, he probably deserves it for being a mole," he said, his words lacking the confidence to support what he was saying.

"He's on our side now," Brin said reprovingly.

Alec shrugged, conceding defeat easier than usual. He wasn't convinced of what he was saying anyway, thus lacking the motivation to argue. "So Brin, what's your stake in all of this?" he asked, changing the subject. The last time Alec saw her was as a true blue soldier, and his commanding officer. In the aftermath of Manticore's destruction, she seemed to fall completely off the radar— it was not at all unexpected since it was incorporated into her training. But the events leading her back to Lydecker, and now Terminal City— now that eluded him.

"Unfinished business," she replied vaguely.

"Go on," he encouraged, opening one of the desk's drawers to extract his secret stash of cheeze-its. He offered her some, but she held out a hand and shook her head.

"It's a long story," she said unenthusiastically, trying her hardest to avoid explaining.

"We have time," he was persistent as usual, flashing her a cheesy grin when she attempted to glare at him. "Let me start you off," he offered, sitting up straighter.

"Max takes Manticore down, lets all our furry friends free, and suddenly your organized G.I. Joe world comes crashing down. But suddenly here you are, right beside her, fighting the good fight ..." his voice trailed off, leaving her to fill in the blank spots.

"You skipped a few parts," she said wearily, aware that if she didn't explain things now, he would keep bothering her until she did. The story wasn't that personal, but it had its moments. "After Manticore's takedown, it was almost impossible to find Colonel Lydecker. He was a hard man to track down, not surprisingly, considering the traitorous things he did," her voice definitely had an edge of bitterness to it.

"But you looked for him anyway," Alec tossed in.

"But I looked for him anyway," Brin confirmed. "He was, in a way, our father. And in tough times, he was dependable. I eventually got in touch with him. He gave me Syl and Krit's address; they had relocated to Montreal, Canada where Zane was. I went up there with vengeance on my mind— for what they had done to Manticore. But I couldn't do it, and I think Colonel Lydecker knew that too, that's why he gave me their address," she conceded, without a hint of embarrassment. It was in the past and being an ice queen, Brin could effortlessly bury her feelings. "I could never hurt my siblings— not intentionally," she confessed with a shrug. "They helped me get back on my feet, I found work, and life was normal for the time being— normal, but really boring," she confessed. "I never knew what happened to Zack until Colonel Lydecker called us one day and debriefed us on the situation. Syl, Krit, and Zane didn't trust him— they had no reason to— but I never lost faith in him. I guess deep down, I always knew he cared and had good intentions— even if he has a odd way of showing it."

She seemed to zone out for a second, recalling the memories of the events she was describing. It took a few more moments before she chased them out of her head and snapped back to attention. "And what about you?"

Alec grabbed one last handful of cheeze-its before closing the box and putting it away. "Eh, you know, the same 'ol stuff. Nothing half as interesting as your story," he said, popping a cheeze-it into his mouth.

Having already been told his story by Max, Brin didn't see the need for him to repeat what she already knew. "Your striking resemblance to Ben brings back bad memories for all of us. Identical in every way," she stated honestly, with no intention to offend him. She seemed to examine his facial features in detail. "Except your hair's longer, of course."

"I know, Max and I had this talk before," he snapped indignantly. She had surely hit a nerve with him.

"Don't worry, none of us hold it against you," she said forgivingly to salvage the situation.

"Hold _what_ against me?" Alec purposely sounded more curious than worried. He rarely ever showed weakness.

"The constant reminder of survivor's guilt," she stated blankly, as if it should've been obvious. "We all have it."

"Keep going," he invited, not quite certain what she was getting to, but he had a good idea.

"Your creation, of course," Brin stated abstractedly. "You symbolize a bad memory that won't go away, and looking at you reminds us of someone we lost." She was oblivious to his true feelings on the matter, and continued to be blunt as possible. After all, he showed no indication that she should stop talking about this. "That's probably why you and Syl aren't a possibility. You remind her of her little brother—the one who wasn't strong enough, the one who didn't make it," she added quietly, this topic was rather personal to her also. But she was a master of her emotions, and idle chatter wasn't something to get moody over.

Alec fell silent, he paused chewing and peered at her from the corner of his eye. It was now as uncomfortable as it could ever get, the thick awkwardness lingering in the air between them. He realized now that no matter how close he got to any of them, he supposed there was a sacred bond between the X5 escapees that he could never penetrate. And in the end, it was all right with him. "I guess I'll have to wear a paper bag over my face now," he muttered.

Brin smirked. "Maybe."

Almost on cue, Gem entered the warehouse from the opposite side, waving her hand to get their attention. "She's ready for us at warehouse two, let's go." And promptly exited again.

Alec got to his feet quickly, coming up from Brin's side and falling in step with her as they walked quickly towards warehouse two. "You still haven't answered my question," he pointed out. He was more curious than hopeful of any chance.

She figured out what he was referring to quickly, not faltering in step. "Are we still on that? Fine ... yeah, they are," Brin replied. "She and Krit have been together for a while now, but I don't want you making a big deal out of it," she shot back warningly. "Relationships, love and all that junk can wait, we've got people to save and—"

"Okay okay, point made," he replied, sounding mock disappointed and doing a poor job of it. "Okay, theoretical question," he said, inserting a pause.

"My favorite kind," Brin said dully.

"If I had known her longer than him, do you think that her and I could—"

"—No," Brin cut in, before he finished the question.

"O ... kay," he replied, not sounding at all discouraged. Persistent as ever, he tried again. "Let's say that after this whole thing is resolved, her and I—"

"—No," Brin interrupted again.

Alec refrained from throwing his hands up in surrender. "Can't you say anything _else_ but 'no'?" he raised an eyebrow at her as they rounded a corner and hastily approached the correct warehouse.

Before they reached the door, Brin paused in step and glanced at him, sending him a very appraising look. She raised a brow.

"No."

------------------------------------

**Location:** Terminal City, Washington. Warehouse 2.

**Time: **7:40 PM PST

"Is this the entire city's population, 452?" the General questioned, shooting a glance around the packed warehouse. He was dressed in a United States army uniform decorated with various medals. What struck Krit the most was that he completely lacked a bio-suit. Apparently, after many tests, the FDC confirmed what the transgenics already knew and had been telling them all along— they weren't the cause of the plague. Coupled with the data they had retrieved, the military, as a whole, was more friendly towards the transgenics.

In a way, the military viewed these strange creations as their own kind— soldiers.

"Yes, sir," Max replied sharply, in proper fashion. She wasn't keen to playing soldier, but she understood that doing this would soften relations between them and the transgenics.

"Right then, can I have your attention please?" he declared, standing at the makeshift podium. The idle chatter immediately ceased. "I draw your attention to the display. Carson, hit the lights," the General commanded.

A helmeted soldier nodded and flipped the light switch off. Another aide pushed a tall and bare whiteboard behind the General. The whiteboard served as a temporary screen, and when the projector was flipped on, the presentation was enlarged and visible to everyone in the warehose. The General reached for his laser pointer, keeping it ready just in case it was needed.

Krit was seated beside Syl, who was beaming warmly at him. Beside him on the left was Mole, Joshua, Brin, Alec, and a few of the other big names in Terminal City. They were invited to sit in the front by Max's invitation, so Krit figured they were all trusted friends. From the corner of his eye, sitting in the center of an alert group of X7s was a pale, white, Familiar boy— Seth.

Krit blinked. "What is _he_ doing here?" he whispered into Syl's ear, with clear distaste present in his voice.

Syl kept her eyes locked on the speaking General, already aware of who Krit was referring to. "Max thought that maybe this presentation might bring him over to our side," she whispered back.

"He's listening to all our plans, you know," Krit pointed out, keeping his voice low.

"She thought that with Zeke gone, it'd be helpful to have a Familiar on our side. Besides, he's in our custody. He's not leaving anytime soon," she patted his hand soothingly, putting him to ease.

"Yeah ... okay," he replied, sounding relieved enough to listen to the General.

A map of the United States was now on the board, with multiple red dots scattered on the display. "Heaviest losses are here," he tapped New York City, "here," he tapped Los Angeles, "and here," he tapped Miami. "Trigeria has spread quickly in those cities because of their closely packed populations and the fact that all those cities are close to the ocean. From the discs retrieved," the slide changed, "it says that the Conclave distributes the plague through water. The main distribution center of North America, according to the information, is based in a dam on Catalina Island, in California."

"A _dam_? How could the government miss all this?" Mole interrupted the General, sounding cranky. "Aren't all dams kept on record?"

The General turned his attention to Mole, craning his head to the side in observance. He was at first startled by Mole's appearance, but quickly pushed that out of the way. He swallowed hard. "Well, since the Pulse happened, most construction records were lost. We're guessing the cult members in the United States government did a thorough job of wiping the dam's existence out of the database."

"And what are you going to do about the Familiars who are secretly in the government? That's wide-spread corruption," Mole retorted, "not that the U.S. government isn't already corrupt," he added bitterly.

Max shot him a blistering glare. Mole shrugged.

"They'll be brought to trial and dealt with," the General replied firmly, loosening his collar a bit. He couldn't blame any of the transgenics for how they felt towards the country that had created them and then turned its back. He felt the hateful eyes on him, but continued talking nonetheless. "Disc two and three contain a valuable roster of North American Conclave members. I assure you, this list has been distributed to the right people and the aforementioned Familiars are being arrested as we speak. We're keeping it as quiet as possible because we don't want to alert them and consequently drive them out of the country."

Unlike the other corrupt officials in the government, General Randall S. Walker remembered a time when he served an honorable and respectable country. He was a man of his word, and that was partially the reason he was ordered to handle this assignment. The other reason was that the other Generals feared the transgenics. Initially, Walker had his reservations. But now seeing and working with them up close— he discovered they truly weren't much different at all.

"Can I continue or do you have anything else to say?" the question was posed respectfully.

"No, that's all," Mole replied, sounding a bit deflated. The unexplained resentment he had against the General faded quickly after he saw that the man _wasn't_ like the other military jackasses.

"Fortunately enough, the dam isn't heavily guarded. I suppose they didn't want to draw attention since Catalina is known to be a tourist attraction. Since the plague broke out, many deaths have been reported in that area and tourism has officially ceased. We might have had a clear path, but since 452's infiltration of the Conclave's headquarters, we're fairly sure they've been alerted and security has been beefed up."

"Why don't you just ... nuke it?" Alec spoke up. "You know, drop a few missiles? Problem solved."

The General didn't seem fazed by the interruptions, in fact, he welcomed them. He didn't know much on this subject and any input was a good thing. "I'm getting to that," he signaled to his aide who changed the slide. Now came up a huge picture of a large and malicious looking anaconda, wrapped around what looked like a metal pole.

Many in the audience jerked back. But Max kept her eyes locked forward. She already knew where this was leading, she was just waiting for the others to catch up.

"We've been informed by 452 that this anaconda is called Attila XXIII— the source of the poison. It's within our power to bomb the facility, but that wouldn't fix the problem at all," he said wearily. "The water would still be poisoned and the infected would be still be dying. 452 says that there's a way to reverse the process but the distribution facility needs to kept intact. 452?"

Max cracked her neck and stood up. All eyes were on her now. "If a small team can infiltrate the area, we can take the facility intact. Once we have the facility, we can figure out what to do from there," she announced to everyone.

"Of course the facility's poisonous to our soldiers and bio-suits hinder movement ..." The General added in an apologetic tone, he was leading up to something.

Alec sighed. "And guess who their only hope is ..." he muttered under his breath. Brin, Joshua, and Mole nodded in agreement.

"—Which means," the General continued, "that a transgenic squad must be sent in," he confirmed Alec's suspicions. Upon that statement, the warehouse broke out in scattered conversation. "Wait, there's more."

The transgenics ceased talking and looked up momentarily.

"In exchange for your services, the United States government will extend American citizenship with all the privileges of a ... regular citizen to transgenics. I have this in writing," he tossed in, signaling his aide to switch the slide. Up came an official document, with the United States seal on it, and confirming what the General just announced.

He fell silent at the makeshift podium, observing them all. He would let them discuss this amongst themselves for now, but in the end, he would only accept one response.

"Psh, yeah right," Mole muttered bitterly. "As if we'd die for the people who want to cut us in half. If you think about it, this Coming thing isn't so bad. Once it knocks all the ordinaries out, it leaves the earth to us and the Familiars. We can handle a couple of breeding cult loons."

Alec and Joshua shifted in their seats, both thinking back to Biggs' death. The X5 had been bludgeoned to death, then hung from a bridge. All for being what he was. And whose fault was that ... ?

Mole seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Think about it, Josh," Mole encouraged, seeing the gears working in his friend's eyes. His loud voice caught the attention of everyone in the warehouse too. "With the ordinaries gone, we can walk anywhere on the surface without fear. No more hiding, no more dark and damp sewers and lurking. You can feel sunlight on your face and—"

Max hadn't said anything up to now because what Mole was saying made some sense. Then a certain someone came into mind and she was forced to cut in, "Are you insane?" she snapped. "You're talking about mass murder here— innocent women and children. And what about _Logan_?" she openly challenged Mole. It seemed that everytime there was a leadership decision to make, her and Mole always bumped heads.

"What about Logan?" Mole shot back, coming to a stand to emphasize the size difference between her and him. "Think about your people and what's best for them, don't be _selfish._ Logan's one person, and I know he's the only thing standing in your way from making the right decision. Do you really think the public will accept us Max? Citizenship or not?"

The transgenic crowd had gathered around Max and Mole, each of them with different opinions on the matter.

"If I was _selfish_ then I wouldn't volunteer to fight for these billions of people. The _right_ decision, Mole? Since when was mass genocide ever the right decision?" she shot back venomously. She was fuming now, but wouldn't back down. Max never did.

"Since our offspring became involved, Max. Haven't you been paying attention? Some of us don't look human, and our kids won't either. White's Breeding Cult friends have given us this window of opportunity to permanently solve all of our problems."

Many transgenics murmured in agreement, the majority of them siding with Mole.

"You'd be just as bad as them," she spat disgustedly.

"Last I checked, _they_ let loose this plague, not us. We're just lucky enough to be immune," he rationalized. "It's not our problem, and I'm not lifting a finger to help. Remember that day we decided to take a stand here? After we escaped Jam Pony? You said that you were tired of running and hiding. Now we don't have to."

She scoffed, her eyes avoiding Joshua at all costs. She knew Joshua agreed with Mole, even if Logan was a good friend to him. Max wouldn't pull him into this. "Fine, if you don't want to help, then stay here. But don't get in the way," she warned, shooting a fierce look at his supporters. Part of her felt bad for the transgenics, she couldn't blame them for thinking of their families. But the other part of her knew what was right.

Mole shook his head. "No, we won't get in the way. But we're not helping you," the way he phrased that sentence made it so that he spoke for everyone who didn't want to argue with Max. "I won't be part of this," he stated, Max swore she heard a hint of an apology in his tone. "It's a suicide mission. And for what? For the people who turned their backs on us? The people who are hunting us?"

The General shifted uncomfortably in place, feeling despair collect inside of him as he listened to the raging debate. If the transgenics didn't agree to help, then the army would have to use brute force to make them. He didn't want to resort to that, but by look of things, it was a possibility.

Max's eyes darted around for support, but the Nomalies had completely sided with Mole. Most of the X series were undecided and kept out of the discussion. "Then I guess I'm going in alone," she said defiantly. "One of the discs detail how to destroy the plague," Max swallowed, she didn't want to go into detail with how, "and I'm going to it. Or die trying," she promised. She turned her back to Mole and walked towards the General.

"The military will provide air and ground support around the perimeter, but we can't approach the facility. We only need ten people, no more, and no less," the General announced. "Just ten people," he controlled his voice to not sound desperate, but deep down, he was as panicked as possible. The numbers coming in from headquarters were astronomical. Five million dead and thirty million more infected? Even crooked politicians and dirty criminal bosses straightened up their act in search of a solution. Money was no longer a factor because if they couldn't find a cure, there would be no one on earth alive to spend it.

Alec looked from Joshua to Mole, then to Syl, Krit, Brin, and other X5s. Everyone was fighting his or her own internal struggle on the matter. But Alec, along with a few others came to a quick decision. "I'm in," he declared loudly, catching Max and the General's attention. Alec walked past the others and headed over to stand beside Max.

"Us too of course," Krit spoke up for him, Syl, and Brin. "Was there any doubt?" he grinned towards Max.

"That's five," the General announced. "We'll need at least ten to stand a ghost of a chance. Anyone else?" he was perhaps pushing his luck, but he had to try.

"Yeah, here's two more," Gem stepped forward, flashing a smile at Max as she joined the others.

Behind her, surprisingly, Joshua advanced. Max blinked, as did the others around her. "You don't have to come with us, big fella," she said sincerely, and she meant it.

Joshua fervently shook his head. "—Virus bitch going down ... Max and Logan getting busy. _That's_ the plan," he said with a smirk, the warmness in his voice apparent.

Max seemed particularly touched by that, and reached out to hug him tightly. "Thanks," she muttered. Gem, however, was another matter. "Gem ... I appreciate it, but ... I can't let you go. You have to look after Hope," Max pointed out. She just couldn't take a mother on a deadly mission and away from her newborn child. When they went into the Conclave's HQ, there was a high success rate. But this ... this was very different.

Gem shook her head, "I've thought about that too. But if we don't succeed, and this plague kills the ordinaries, what kind of life is Hope going to have? Being hunted by Familiars? She doesn't have a barcode, she'll be a citizen of the United States and free to do what she wants. But only if the mission's accomplished."

"What kind of life is she going to have without a mother?" Max shot back softly. She was flattered by the woman's persistence, and honestly, Max wanted to let her join the team. But it was the wrong move— she knew it, Gem knew it, and everyone else probably did. "Stay here. If anything happens to us, you'll need to help Mole manage this bunch, okay? Promise me."

Gem seemed saddened by this statement and had to put some thought into it. Moments later, she sighed in resignation. "I promise. But you be careful," she wrapped her arms around Max and pulled the other into a tight hug, then stepped down and away from the group.

"That's seven— I mean— six," the General seemed to perk up, examining the assembling team. They needed four more people.

"Make it eight," some announced from the back.

Everyone's eyes darted to Dalton and Zack, who had just returned. They were soaking wet because it was raining furiously outside, but still both smiling. "We're with you, Max," Dalton announced as he crossed the room and rounded around the group.

Max nodded, smiling warmly. Her gaze fell solidly on Zack, who was staring intently at her. He was dressed the same since she last saw him, but he was different than the perplexed amnesiac she met hours ago. Now, he was radiating with an aura of confidence and strength— he was her big brother again. Syl, Krit, and Brin noticed this immediately also, but said nothing, only smiled.

"It's my job to look after you, Maxie— of all of you," he remarked, tossing his siblings a smile. "It'll be ... just like old times," he added, indicating that he had regained the majority of his memories.

Dalton beamed, obviously proud of his work. "I take all the credit for helping him get his memory back," he declared.

Max ruffled his hair. "Thanks, kid."

"That's eight," the General said loudly, examining the transgenics.

"Nine," a coarse voice cut through the silence. The X7s snapped to attention, their guns firmly trained on Seth.

The transgenics and the military men both turned their attention to Seth. Max raised a brow, disturbed and surprised both that he was ... _talking_. Then again, she was aware that he could, but it was still a rare feat.

"For Rianne," he muttered, looking down at his shoes and coming to a slow stand. The X7's stopped his ascent with their guns.

"—Oh yeah right. Come on, Max, you can't trust him," Krit cut in hastily. "He rips people's heads off and—"

Syl raised a finger to his lips to silence him. Krit stopped talking mid-sentence.

Max's attention was still firmly locked on Seth, she was fascinated by him and contemplated his motives. The boy hadn't spoken a word since he was taken hostage, and now he was volunteering to help? And what was it about Rianne? Max furrowed her brows in thought, then it clicked in her mind. "You loved her didn't you?" she asked gently.

Seth nodded, his pale face looking paler if it was possible. He felt the eyes on him but refused to look up.

"You can't trust him," Krit cut in again. "You're not seriously going to buy that are you?"

"I am, and I will," she replied. "We appreciate your help, Seth. And we accept it. Let him through," she commanded the X7's.

Without hesitation, they pulled their rifles back and let him through.

"Well that's nine," the General announced enthusiastically. "One more?" he sent a sweeping glance over the transgenic crowd.

Mole stood defiantly at the front, as if he represented everyone standing behind him. He was unmoved by the pledge of support from Dalton and the X5s, but when Joshua joined in, he was admittedly offended. No one else said a word for a few minutes, and the entire warehouse fell into an eery silence, punctuated only by the sound of falling rain outside.

General Walker gave it more time, looking anxiously from transgenic to transgenic. Finally, with a sigh, he shrugged. "Then I guess we'll just have to work with nine—" he said, sounding crestfallen. Someone had interrupted him though, and he looked to see who had.

"—All right," a voice interrupted, swiveling abruptly around to face the front. "All right. I'll go."

Max blinked. Once again, something had taken her completely by surprise. She stood on her toes and craned her neck to look at the source of the voice. It was ...

"_Zeke_?" Dalton spoke for them all, in complete shock. "What are you doing back here? We dropped you off at the train station, I thought—"

"I took a bus back," he dismissed, putting the case to rest. "But anyway ... yeah, I'll go. You've got your ten," he said hurriedly. He was also dripping wet from the heavy rain outside. His bangs were plastered to his face and his clothes were thoroughly soaked. "Man ..._ I hate water_," he echoed, shooting a grin at Alec.

The surprise drained from Alec's system, and after he got the reference, he grinned back.

"You don't mean that," Max said, thinking back to their time in the hummer. She already had Seth, and while it was stupid of her to reject Zeke's help, she felt guilty asking for anything more from him. His words in the hummer had gotten to her significantly, and she understood how and why he blamed her for his family's death. "This is infinitely more dangerous than the other mission."

"Doesn't matter," Zeke said. His voice was trembling, but his jaw was set firmly. He knew that she wouldn't agree to this until he explained his reasoning. So, he took a deep breath and started.

"In the car ride on the way to the train station ... Zack told me all about what happened to his life. It was terrible— the people he lost, the confusion, and all the pain too. I hated the people who'd done it— I really _hated_ them. And I hated everyone who's ever caused pain to other people."

He looked over at Zack, who was staring attentively back at him. "But ... he told me hatred was wrong, that it was one of those things that hurt the hater more than people he hated. He told me there can be justice without hatred, and punishment without revenge. He said we were all responsible for what we do and what we don't do, and no one should have to pay for someone else's crimes."

He locked eyes with Max. "I'm a Familiar, Max. But I'm a good Familiar, and I'm responsible for what I do and what I don't do, just like you and Zack. If I can help and I don't, then I'm just as guilty as everyone else. It would've been like I killed Rianne, Elena, and Davis myself." He waved a hand helplessly. "I'm not too good at stuff like this. You understand what I'm trying to say?"

Max smiled affectionately at him. Some time during the events of the past few days, Zeke had radically changed from the cocky and selfish boy she once knew. He had matured since then, putting others before himself. Now, finally, he was a man. She looked at him proudly. "I understand _perfectly_," Max assured, feeling confidence and a newfound sense of hope spreading inside the warehouse.

Mole and his party stayed quiet. "For what it's worth ..." Mole started with a sigh, now looking _and_ sounding guilty, "... I hope you come back alive, Max," and he genuinely meant that. "I hope you all come back," he said to all of them.

Max nodded firmly, feeling the support of her friends, her people, and now her country feeding her the strength she needed to get through this. It seemed to replenish her energy and dissolve the fears and doubts she had about this mission.

"Your team, General Walker," Max stated proudly, motioning to her squad who had since lined up neatly.

The General was smiling broadly.

"Let's show these Familiars who they're messing with."

**A/N: **I've still got a few twists to throw at all of you. Be sure to tell me what you think of this chapter.


	14. Elevation

**Author's Note: **Sorry this took so long! I've been busy looking over colleges and whatnot. =D Senior year is going to be fun. I hope.

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 14: Elevation

**Location:** Boeing 747, American Airlines Flight 919. Economy Class.

**Time: **12:30 AM PST

So far, it had turned out to be a very interesting evening. The moment the team was assembled, the General immediately called in for air transport for the transgenic squad. To his dismay, all military aircrafts were stationed far from Seattle and would take too long to arrive. So, in the end, General Walker took the unconventional approach and had his soldiers commandeer a commercial airline— legally, of course. It was here that Max found herself peering out a small, circular, window, sailing 35,000 feet off the ground. Due to the time constraints, the airplane's staff; stewardess, stewards, pilots, co-pilots and all were brought along for the ride.

Max's entire team had showered, changed, and some of them were probably catching up on some rest now. By the time they reached California, they would hopefully be ready to do their job. Everyone was now wearing standard issue army wear. The outfits consisted of tight black military pants— ones that Alec vehemently _protested_ to wearing— a zip-up black sweater, and smooth black boots to match. All in all, it was the most black Max had ever worn in her life. The entire team was also equipped with new gadgets and weapons. One of the gadgets was a synchronized, complicated looking watch. Max glanced down at it, and watched impatiently as the second hand steadily ticked.

For every second that passed, Logan slipped steadily towards death.

"Can I get you a drink?" a voice cut in gently.

Max snapped to attention, chasing the morbid thoughts from her mind. She peered at the blonde stewardess for a moment, observing the women's obvious discomfort for interrupting someone's train of thought. Max's initial response was 'no thanks' but after some thought, she decided something warm would help soothe her nerves. "Hot tea," she requested.

The stewardess nodded, walking back up the empty aisle to fetch the requested drink.

The Boeing 747 was naturally a huge airplane, made to fit 250 passengers, plus baggage. Right now it carried a measly group of thirty, so everyone was scattered at various parts of the aircraft. Since the plane was primarily empty, Max could have opted to sit in the first class section. But after a quick visit there, she learned that it was a popular area where most everyone crowded. And by the sounds coming from the front of the plane, Alec had striked up a poker game with some of the soldiers. That didn't interest her in the least bit.

In the end, she found her niche in an empty row of three chairs. She liked window seats, and the storm brewing outside had lightning, which illuminated the clouds adequately. Sitting a good distance across from her, was Zack, engrossed with reading a thick pamphlet that Logan had printed out for him. Max guessed that it was probably an autobiography with pictures to help aid his memory recovery. It was typically a slow process, but luckily, Zack was a fast learner.

Max shifted in her seat to peer at him. He seemed so immersed in his reading that she felt guilty for interrupting. But there were some questions she need to ask, and this was as good a time as any. "So Zack ... what exactly did you tell Zeke to inspire such a reaction?" she finally asked into the silence, with a grin.

He shifted his gaze from the papers to her. Seeing her grin, he grinned back. "Well, I told him about my life, because Dalton encouraged me to. I'm guessing the conversation was a test to see how far I had progressed in terms of regaining my memory. I wasn't trying to guilt trip him into helping us, but it worked out well in the end, didn't it? He's on our team now," Zack said, sounding satisfied.

"Yeah, for the best ..." Max commented under her breath, relieved that things were working to her benefit for once— or rather, for now. Seeing the stewardess approach, she pulled down her table and waited for her drink. Upon receiving it, Max nodded a thanks to the woman before she walked away. Max grasped the plastic cup lightly, feeling its heat radiate through to her hand.

"Hey Zack," she called out again, lifting the cup of tea to her mouth and taking a little sip. The warmth was indeed soothing, traveling down the length of her throat.

He flipped another page of the packet, being a fast reader, Zack could get through the large pamphlet in a few minutes. His attention was once again diverted to Max. "Yeah, Max?"

She couldn't help but smile, seeing the familiarity of her older brother creep back. "How far along are you with the flash learning?" She leaned back against her chair and relaxed her tense muscles, patiently waiting his response. She was very curious to find out what he had learned, and she hadn't been able to talk to him since Harbor Lights Hospital.

"Actually, I already finished a few hours ago," he confessed.

Max blinked. She didn't know he was that fast of a reader, maybe she underestimated Manticore's abilites.

"But," he continued, "I decided to re-read some of the blurrier parts. Some of these memories fall into place easily, but others ... they're not clicking, you know?" he seemed uncomfortable with that last part, and Max didn't know why.

"What do you mean?" she asked, furrowing her brows in thought. She took another sip of the tea.

"Let me show you something," he flipped a few pages back, then stood up, and settled in the seat beside her. He had his finger pressed underneath a sentence of writing that was bolded, italicized, and underlined. Of course, he was pointing out this sentence to her.

In the packet, Logan had emphasized the following sentence :

"... For clarification, **_YOU WERE NOT ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED WITH MAX AT ANY TIME DURING YOUR LIFE_**. ANY EMOTIONS, THOUGHTS, AND/OR CONFUSION REVOLVING AROUND THIS TOPIC SHOULD NO LONGER BE AN ISSUE ..."

Max coughed a bit, suppressing a snicker as best she could. Logan ... funny guy, that one.

She looked up to see Zack looking back. "Um ... yeah, that's true. We were never like that, Zack." She suddenly felt tense again, considering how taboo this topic was. After all, this was the reason Zack had attacked Logan in the first place and triggered another memory wipe.

"Ah, I see ..." he murmured disappointedly, looking from her back down to the packet. He seemed to be in deep thought, struggling through something. "But I have ... these feelings, fragments of thoughts. I just— ... it's that— ... well, when I look and think of you, I have flashbacks of moments ..." his voice trailed off, and he instantly stopped talking the second he saw the distressing expression on her face.

"So you and Logan are ...?" Zack seemed strangely awake all of a sudden, his curiosity peaked on this subject.

Max paused for a second and looked down at her cup, the honey colored liquid emitting a light fragrance. It would be dumb to deny what was so blatantly obvious to everyone, and of course, Max wanted to avoid playing mind games with Zack at all costs. The poor guy was already too confused as is. But something inside told her not to admit the evident, for fear that it might trigger some killer jealous rage within the other X5. Just like the last time.

"I mean, if I'm out of line for asking, you can just say so," he said apologetically, as if hesitant to cross a certain boundary. Zack noticed the state of contemplation she was in, and respected that. "For what it's worth, as your _big brother_," he emphasized that title proudly, "... Logan's okay by me."

Max looked startled to that announcement, but was relieved at the same time. She studied his face, seeing none of the imperfections that could be caused by the implants within his body. It seemed that for every time Zack lost his memory, he was born again as a slightly different person. It was like he had been reincarnated three times, still with the same foundations, but as different person in his own right.

For unexplained reasons, she still opted to deny telling. "No," Max started, "Logan and I aren't like that."

"Riiight, sure you two aren't," Zack prodded with a grin. The awkwardness in the subject seemed to fade entirely, and now they were simply brother and sister again— sitting side-by-side and poking fun at each other. "You're a bad liar. Almost as bad as Krit."

"Hey, don't compare me to Krit. I'm not _that_ bad," she protested, sounding mock offended, "... you just know me too well."

He appeared to take that sentence to heart, a warm smile spreading across his features.

"Yeah ... I guess I do."

------------------------------------

**Location:** **Location:** Boeing 747, American Airlines Flight 919. Business Class.

**Time: **12:30 AM PST

Zeke was picking at the collar of his shirt, feeling a bit restrained due to the zipper. Things would have been twice as bad if he was forced to wear those tight pants, but thanks to Alec and his loud protests, all the men were spared from wearing black spandex. Zeke casted an anxious look around the plane's interior, clutching tightly onto the armrests as if his life depended on it. There was some turbulence due to the storm outside, and flying was _not_ one of his favorite things to do. He preferred being safely on the ground, where he didn't feel so vulnerable. Also, it didn't help things much that the inside of the plane was freezing and as dry as a saltine cracker.

Though now that he was in Business Class, he found that the seats were much more comfortable and the space more roomy than the economy class downstairs. Zeke fidgeted with the remote attached to his armrest, adjusting the position of his seat back and forth. His personal TV was on but some sappy love movie was playing, and it hardly interested him.

Sitting right beside him in the window seat, less amused, and deathly quiet thus far, was his Familiar counterpart— Seth.

Zeke had given up trying to talk to him after the first half hour, but now that he was awfully bored, he decided to give it another try. "Hey Seth, you don't have to sit as stiff as a wooden board you know. Don't you want to _lounge_?" to emphasize his point, Zeke jabbed a button on his remote. The chair violently jerked backwards, taking a surprised Zeke with it. "Oh damn," he muttered, "I so didn't expect that," he braced himself, then glanced at Seth.

Seth returned from whatever planet his mind was at and looked at Zeke with a stoic expression on his face. He simply shook his head.

Zeke sighed, returning his chair to a forward position. He was itching to ask a certain question ... and since no one else was around, he decided that he would. "So ... um, Seth ... why don't you ... yanno, talk?" Zeke tried to filter out the apprehension in his voice.

Seth broke his gaze from the window and looked back at Zeke. He shrugged.

Zeke sighed in resignation. "Fine fine, you don't have to tell if you don't want to," though his voice hinted that he still wanted to know. "But it's not fair that you talked to ... Rianne." Zeke twitched at the mention of her name.

Seth did too.

"What was it between you and Rianne anyway?" Zeke tried again, oblivious that he was poking into uncharted territory.

No response.

"I mean, you talked to her, right? And you don't talk to your mom so that must mean you liked Rianne more than your mom," Zeke hadn't quite gotten over his teammate's death, but his curiosity overtook his grief.

Once again, no response.

But Zeke wouldn't quit. "Not that it matters now since they're both ... gone," his lip twitched again, "but it was Rianne who shot your mom." Zeke shrugged, he didn't think it was that big a deal. But obviously— Seth did.

The boy seemed to be stunned by that, his attention now fully on the Element. Seth seemed to be struggling through an inner battle. A few seconds later, it was resolved. "Did she die instantly?" he asked, his voice a bit raspy and tired.

Zeke paused fidgeting with his TV remote and peered up, now energized since he had finally gotten Seth to talk. "Your mom? Oh yeah, she had a nice big hole blown into her back," he exaggerated.

"Too bad for her," Seth said dully.

"Any reason in particular you hate your mom that much?" he tried, half-expecting Seth to tell him to shut up.

Seth sent him an appraising look, as if trying to decide if the other honestly cared or was being plain nosy. "She's not my real mom," he finally said, with a scowl. "Her real son didn't survive the initiation, so she took me away from my parents." And that was that.

Zeke blinked, a bit taken back. He should've expected to discover something this interesting from someone so ... unusual. "High-ranking officials get a lot of power, but ... but I don't think they can do _that_."

Now the pale boy, previously unmoved and apathetic, had sad eyes. The eyes of a victim. "She adopted me," he said with a shrug. Now that, in the Conclave, was perfectly acceptable. Every Familiar child who was worthy enough to survive the initiation had to be raised. "After she beheaded my parents," he said, with a controlled rage resting beneath his voice, "in front of me."

Zeke swallowed hard. Suddenly, the chilly cabin felt like it dropped a few more degrees. Zeke wasn't a psychiatrist, but that might explain why Seth routinely beheaded his enemies. Maybe it was due to trauma, or maybe it was due to pent up anger. Either way, it wasn't pretty— but it was in the past. "Well she's gone now, so you don't have to be so uptight anymore. The score's settled, I guess."

"No it's not," Seth snapped. "It's not over until we stop the Coming. I'm not here to help the ordinaries, I'm on this plane because I want to cause hell for the Conclave."

Comprehension hit Zeke in the face like an ice-soaked rag. While Zeke's reasons for being here were clearly different than Seth's, he was relieved to find that the other boy was here anyway. "To each his own, I guess," he murmured. In a way, Zeke felt pity for this supposed predator, who was in reality, the prey. This was no way for a teenager of seventeen years old to be, let alone act. Then again, Zeke didn't have much of a childhood, but at least it wasn't as crappy as Seth's.

"Hey Seth," he spoke up suddenly, in an effort to brighten things up.

"Hm?" Seth responded, his attention now back to Zeke.

"Watch what your chair can do, it's so cool," he stated, reaching over to swiftly hit the lounge button.

"Wait— Zeke, no!" he protested, but to no avail. The chair snapped back, causing a shocked Seth to quickly fall into a lounging position. The footrest flew up and before long, Seth found himself staring at the ceiling. The shock was unmistakable on his face, it soon faded away to become irritation.

Zeke twitched. If he had calculated wrong, and Seth took offense to what he had just done ...

But to his surprise, the irritation disappeared as quickly as it appeared. And for perhaps the first time in his life, Seth ... smiled. It took a few seconds to find something to say— but eventually— he found it.

"... Cool."

------------------------------------

**Location:** **Location:** Boeing 747, American Airlines Flight 919. First Class.

**Time: **12:30 AM PST

"Alec, I don't want to play anymore," Krit stated dully, unenthusiastically holding up a row of cards. He looked puzzled, and in fact, he was.

"No no, come on, this is easy," Alec encouraged distractedly, sending Joshua an amused look. He nudged the soldier beside him. "Your turn, bud," he said over the loud chatter the other soldiers were making.

"Nah, I'm tired and I'm down ... what, fifty bucks now? I fold," he put his cards down and stood up.

"You _flip_," Joshua corrected.

"No, it's 'fold', big guy," Alec corrected him.

Joshua looked puzzled.

"Don't worry about it," Alec assured, giving him a pat on the back. "Fine fine, get outta here," he said lightly to Krit, with a grin. "But you owe me and you better not forget or the interest piles up, buddy," he chided.

"Yeah yeah," Krit mumbled.

"Don't forget," Alec called out as the other X5 stood to leave.

Krit nodded and walked past a curtain to exit First Class. He ended up in a less crowded section of the plane where some of the staff was scattered around. At a distance, he easily spotted Max and Zack chatting over something— and to the right, he saw Syl reading a magazine. With a wry smile, he dragged himself over to there and settled down beside her.

"Was poker with Alec interesting?" she asked, pulling the window's cover down and flipping a page.

"Well ... _anything_ with Alec is interesting," Krit conceded with a smirk. He yawned loudly and stretched his arms out to loosen up. "Phew," he said finally, after settling down. "So I've been thinking," he said suddenly, as if he had been waiting for the right time to spring this on her.

Syl was surprised by his suddenness, but she hid it well. She simply closed the magazine and set it neatly on her lap. "Yes?"

"We've known each other for a while now, right Syl?" he asked nervously, avoiding eye contact.

"... Our _entire_ life, Krit. So yes, that's a while ..." her voice trailed off, eyeing him suspiciously.

"And we ..." he seemed to struggle at this point, "we love each other, don't we? As much as Max and Logan love each other ... no matter how much they deny it. No matter what, we can depend on each other."

Syl grinned to the Max and Logan comment, how true it was. She finally had an idea where this was going and couldn't help but smile. Krit had been putting it off for a while now. "... Yes, I'd like to think so," she remarked blissfully, patting his hand.

"I guess there's no better time than the present," he started nervously, "especially when we're on this mission and we don't know what's going to happen. Time is precious, particularly now."

He was rambling, she noted. But she let him ramble anyway. "... Of course," she agreed, silently inviting him to continue ...

"Then Syl," he said, locking eyes with her. His expression became serious and he sounded out of breath for some reason. "Will you ..."

She perked up, her attention fully on him.

"... Lend me fifty dollars? Because geez, Alec's a damn good poker player."

**A/N:** I _had_ to do that ... I just couldn't help myself. I have a soft spot for Syl and Krit. Anyway, stay tuned, I've got a few ideas buzzing in my head for the upcoming chapters.


	15. Day of Destiny

**Author's Note: **SATs are evil things.

**The Gift of Daylight**

Chapter 15: Day of Destiny

**Location:** Catalina Island, California

**Time: **7:00 PM PST

The sun had settled indefinitely for the day and darkness veiled the area they had come from, the location they currently were, and the place they were going to be. It was raining heavily outside, and the sound of water pounding against the trees and leaves that covered the area was soothing to Max. Max felt the calming vibrations of the van's engine against her back as she leaned casually on one of the side walls.

Her group was with her in the back of the military van also, tensely silent and attentions diverted elsewhere. She wouldn't bother them, she knew they were each either mentally preparing for the task at hand, or stressing over what was to come. Immediately to her right sat Alec, and to the other side was Zack. They had wasted no time rushing from the airport to a meeting room where they were briefed on the entire plan. A few hours of waiting were done before then joining the awaiting military convoy outside. Now here they were, driving through a forest of scattered trees, fastly approaching the area where they would deploy. Having seen the land's map, Max decided that the island looked somewhat like a doughnut. There was one large piece of land in the center, and a large circle of water surrounding the exterior. So even with the army stationed in the forest around the facility, they couldn't approach the dam without either setting off the alarm, or catching the plague and ultimately dying. The Conclave had wisely planted trees around the area, and judging by the height of them, this entire facility had been here for a long time since trees normally took years to grow to a respectable height.

The General himself was personally seeing this mission through. He was in the passenger seat, directing the driver every once in a while to make turns, but otherwise, silent as well. It was perhaps unnerving for him to think that the fate of humanity was in the hands of a small group of transgenics, transgenics who had been forsaken by their creators, by the public, and by their country. Yet, here they were— ten of them altogether— ready and willing to die for what was right. The public had often portrayed them as monsters— but who were really the monsters?

"We're two clicks away from the makeshift harbor," the General announced gently, looking over his shoulder to address the group. They all looked up individually. "Upon reaching the area, you'll take the boat we've prepared there. Halfway into the water, you'll need to sink the boat to avoid detection, and swim the rest of the way using the wetsuits we've prepared. The military will of course maintain radio silence, the few of us who are here will be absolutely hidden away from view. Rest assured that this surprise attack is genuinely a surprise. Any questions?"

_Rest assured ... right,_ Alec thought bitterly. "Yeah," he spoke up, no usual grin evident on his features. "How are we suppose to get back across the water if we sink the boat?"

This caused murmurs of agreement to run through the group.

"We'll be in contact throughout the entire mission. Should you complete the mission, just say the word, and helicopters will swoop into the area to pick you up," the General replied coolly to skeptical faces. "Don't worry, I have no intention of abandoning your group. You have my word on the matter," he affirmed.

"If you say so," Alec retorted. His hand dove into his pocket to extract a thin black earpiece. He fitted the device over his right ear like a headphone. He adjusted it a bit. Everyone else already had his or hers on.

Krit's hand went up.

"Yes?" the General acknowledged him with a nod.

"I know we each have our individual tasks," Krit stated, in reference to the briefing. "But if any one of us happen to get stuck, what then?" he didn't want to implant a seed of doubt, but it was a serious question that needed to be addressed.

"I'm afraid, Krit," the General was on first name basis with everyone now, "that they would be on their own," he said regretfully, there was something lingering in his voice ... "We have no way of sending in a rescue team due to contamination, and little problems that occur are up to you to handle. Though ... if the entire mission becomes completely compromised ... I want you all to know that I have clearance to decimate the facility," he stated weakly, avoiding their stares, "with disregard for the people left inside. This came in before we departed from the airport," he said sadly, "directly from the President's office."

"Oh God, that's just great," Krit murmured, casting a worried look at Syl.

"God can't help you now," Zeke retorted dully. He didn't seem disturbed at all with what the General was saying. Do or die— it was crystal clear to him. And by the look on Zack's, Alec's, Seth's, and Max's faces, they knew it too.

Syl shook her head and patted Krit's hand comfortingly. "Don't worry about it. We won't fail," she assured him.

"I'm sure it won't come to that," the General stated quickly. "I have the utmost faith in your success." He flashed them an authentic smile, and the mood slightly brightened.

"If you succeed, you'll be heroes of the highest caliber. Your names will be etched in history for eternity," he reminded them, as if this entire mission was strictly for glory— which it certainly was not. Whether it was to save the life of someone they loved or a personal vendetta, each person in the group had his or her own reason for being here. The bottom point was that they were here now, and they were committed.

"But if you don't succeed," the General started soberly, "I guess it won't matter either way."

------------------------------------

**Location:** Catalina Island, California

**Time: **7:25 PM PST

Approximately half an hour later, they reached the deployment area. Each of them filed out of the truck silently, mindful of the rich forest environment around them. It was raining heavily but they were in their wetsuits which had a coat of waterproof oil to keep their bodysuits that were underneath, dry.

"We just _had_ to come in through this way," Alec muttered, swatting a branch out of the way before it scraped him on the face.

"You know as well as I do it was the perfect area to sneak in from," Syl replied behind him, stepping over a protruding root. "The foliage provides a natural cover from any prying eyes, and the rain—"

"—Okay, you made your point," Alec snapped.

"This is where we part ways," the General announced quietly, blowing some water out of his mouth. He was getting soaked just by standing there, but for some reason, he didn't mind. "Continue a few hundred meters this way," he gestured in the correct direction, "and continue according to plan. We'll be in touch." He gently nudged a leaf out of the way. "And ... good luck, soldiers," he said gravely, snapping into a brisk salute.

Max was taken back by the gesture, as were the others. Nevertheless, they replied accordingly, stiffening to attention and returning the salute. Zeke watched as the General trudged back towards the van, and then into it. The vehicle silently backed up in the direction they had come from, slowly disappearing from view. Zeke felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Joshua gesturing to the others, who had already started towards the boat. Pulling his thoughts together, he started towards the same direction.

The boat could hardly be called a boat. Brin was the second to reach the flimsy looking wooden vessel. It was filled to the brim with water due to the rain, but after a quick flip upside down, and then back right side up, the problem was solved. "It's a row boat," she announced to the others who hadn't yet seen it, the volume of her voice carefully controlled. "I'm not surprised," she finished, grabbing one of the paddles.

"Neither am I," Max said monotonously, taking one of the extended paddles. She felt the weight of her backpack shift as she removed a breathing mask from one of the pockets. She boarded the boat towards the front and kept the mask on her lap for later use. The others observed this and mimicked her actions. No one said a word as they got into the vessel. Everyone had his or her own backpack, but the boat was large enough so that everyone fit in comfortably. Or at least, comfortably enough.

Zack and Joshua, the last two to get on were equipped with the remaining paddles. Slowly and surely, they eased the boat off the slick mud and into the water where it swayed a bit. Everyone who was trained at Manticore did the right things to maintain balance. And everyone who wasn't trained at Manticore sat stiffly still so that the others could work.

"I hate water," Zeke murmured quietly to Dalton as the boat traveled farther and farther away from land.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before," Dalton retorted lowly. "I was just thinking, since you're a human lighter and all ... you'd be pretty useful on camping trips. You know, for boiling water and all that."

Zeke looked offended. "I'm not camping equipment, you genetic lemon," he shot back.

Dalton twitched. "I'm not a genetic lemon, you pyromaniac—"

"You two," Syl interjected. She shot them both a reproving look.

They both instantly quieted down.

Krit had been dreading the moment they had to jump in the water, which was probably why the trip to the middle of the lake seemed quicker than it really was. That was common with most things in life. When one dreaded an event— it usually came faster.

"We're here," Max announced, pulling the paddle out of the water and laying it down in the middle of the boat.

"... Is it just me or does that ... _not_ look like a dam?" Alec pointed out.

Max blinked, looking over his shoulder to see what everyone was now staring at. Alec was right, he was completely right. The facility was sitting on top a hill of land, overlooking the water that surrounded it. But the facility itself looked more like a stone castle from the medieval ages. It had an aged look to it, with a mock drawbridge and watch towers included. Black rock was scattered across the artificial island, creating little caves. Max's head jerked back in shock, and she looked around to see if anyone had any input.

"That's not a dam," Alec said the obvious. "And if it is, then someone doesn't know the definition of 'dam'." His mind immediately fell on the General, Alec was weary of being misled, especially by government figures.

"It's not a dam _literally_, it's more of a distribution facility. The pumps are underwater, and all bodies of water empty out into the ocean," Zeke pointed out.

"So why does it look like a Las Vegas hotel instead of a poison producing machine?" Krit demanded. But somehow, he already knew the answer to his question.

"So it won't attract attention," Dalton cut in, before Zeke could explain.

"This _is_ a tourist area, you know," Zeke pointed out. "It's not like they'd have a neon sign stating that they're killing millions of people."

"Yeah," Dalton agreed, a bit weary that Alec and Krit didn't figured it out themselves.

"_Adults_," Zeke scoffed.

"Yeah, seriously," Dalton agreed, rolling his eyes.

Zack chuckled and spared a glance at Syl, who was laughing also.

Alec and Krit both paused, then glared heatedly at the two teenagers.

"Anyway," Max interrupted, wiping a grin off her face. "The blueprints we got of the place still applies and everything will go according to plan. Brin and I are going into the water first. Swim in a straight line, and don't waver. Joshua," she called out. He had just put his paddle away, and now she had his attention.

"Hm?" he grunted.

"You're last to get off, you'll need to sink the boat," she instructed. "A few bullets should do it."

Joshua nodded, clicking the safety off his silencer.

"And don't drink the water. I heard it's not healthy," Alec grinned wryly.

"What he said," Max pointed out. "Are we ready?"

A few seconds later, they all nodded their confirmations.

Max slipped the breathing mask over her face and secured it. Zeke, Joshua, and Seth had to put on extra goggles for sight. In actuality, the X5s didn't need breathing masks for the swimming to be done. But holding their breath was an energy draining action, and the group wanted to be in top shape when they arrived at the fortress. Max offered them all a nod before leaning back and then slipping into the water. She expected it to be cold, bordering on freezing, but to her surprise, the water was pleasantly warm. Max could make out blurry lights down below and a reverberation that made ripples in the water. She guessed those to be the generators. All in due time.

The swim was an easy one, and as Max climbed out of the water, the first thing on her mind was to check on the others. She undid the straps of her backpack and set it on the sand, knowing full well that it was waterproof and everything inside was fine. She saw as Brin stepped out of the water and removed her oxygen mask. Then, one by one, they filed out of the water like soaked shadow monsters. The rain was still pouring so the second thing on Max's mind, of course, was shelter. She spotted a makeshift cave in the distance and led them towards it. "Don't lag behind," she shouted above the sound of the rain.

"That water was warm ..." Dalton stated blankly, putting his air mask back into his backpack.

"And you know what they say about warm water ..." Zeke added.

Krit coughed into his fist, stifling a snicker. While Brin and Syl rolled their eyes.

"Over here," Max invited, trudging up the hill of sand and closing in on the cave. She quickly rid herself of her wetsuit, which made way for the bodysuit underneath. "We have nine hours until dawn, people," she announced lowly as they peeled off their own wetsuits.

"Agh, well that's a load off," Alec dropped his backpack and settled down into the sand.

"We're not resting," Brin reminded.

"Of course we're not," he replied distractedly.

"Everyone okay after that little swim?" Max asked, giving her group a once look over.

"No, that sucked," Zeke said dully, raking his fingers through his damp hair.

"Everyone's okay," Syl confirmed with a smirk.

"Okay people, listen up," she declared, checking to make sure her ponytail was still tight. "You all know your duties. Brin, Alec, Dalton, and Joshua are going straight for the command center. Syl, Krit, and Seth are hitting the generators. And Zack, Zeke, and I will handle the science labs."

"Command Center," Dalton slapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Sounds fun."

"Yeah, at least this time I won't end up in an interrogation room," Alec muttered. Seeing Max's frown, he quickly added, "just kidding, Max." And he was honestly just playing around.

"Are you two done?" Brin snapped.

"Yep," Zeke smiled meekly.

"You were saying, Max," Brin glanced at her.

"Right," she quickly snapped out of a daze. "This is ... where we go our separate ways until the end of the mission," her voice trailed off, but she quickly got it together. "I want you all to look after each other, complete the mission, then get out of there and return to this spot." She stomped her foot into the sand and motioned to the makeshift cave. "After everything's done and we're _all_ out safely," she put extra emphasis on the word 'all', her jaw set tightly and her chin lifted proudly as she observed them. These were people she trusted, through hell and high water. She trusted her life to them, and theirs to hers. "We'll all go to Crash to celebrate. On me." She smiled wryly.

They all chuckled.

"That's right, you better all get through this. Especially you, Krit," Alec jabbed a finger in the man's direction. "You still owe me fifty bucks."

At another time, Krit would have groaned. But instead, he smirked. "Yeah yeah."

"Good luck, Brin," Zack spoke up, having said nothing for the past few hours. He caught the woman in a hug. Then hugged the rest of his siblings except for Max. He would be by her side the entire time after all. "Keep your guard up and keep your head in the game," he warned, sounding like their big brother yet again. "Remember— constant vigilance, patience is a virtue, silence is—"

"—golden," Syl finished, having heard that motto many times in the past. "Yeah, Zack. We got it," she grinned, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her eye.

"All right then," Max announced suddenly. She casted one last look at her team, then took a step back into the rain. They would approach the castle from different points and then enter through three of the four water drainage systems. It was a flawless plan. Well, she hoped it was at least.

"Let's get this bitch over with."

**A/N: **Just a little fun chapter before I get to the more serious parts.


End file.
